


I'd Start a Riot

by Kayleegee



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bratva, Canon Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, OFBB 2016, Olicity Fic Bang 2016, Post Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:33:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7926070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayleegee/pseuds/Kayleegee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Olicity Fic Bang 2016-</p><p>Post-Season 3- After defeating Ra’s and traveling the world, Oliver and Felicity have settled back in Star City living a post-Arrow life in relative peace. But when Oliver disappears, Felicity and Team Arrow have to delve into his Bratva past to find him. While Felicity will stop at nothing to save Oliver, the rest of Team Arrow, Diggle especially, must come to grips with the secrets and mistrust to help Oliver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to [@hotcookinmama](http://hotcookinmama.tumblr.com/) for being the best beta around, and [@cherchersketch](http://cherchersketch.tumblr.com/) for the amazing artwork!

[](http://imgur.com/5B0V6JD)

Sword clashed against sword. The clanging of metal rang in Al Sah-him’s ears. His eyes burned from the fire that encircled him. His throat was dry from the wafting smoke. 

“My lord, we captured this intruder,” Sarab's voice echoed, “He is known to Al Sah-him.” 

Al Sah-him turned to see the man being brought forward, his stomach dropping as the bag over the man’s head was pulled off.

John looked frantically at his surroundings, “Oliver, what the hell is going on?” 

“Give him your sword, Sarab,” Oliver heard himself, heard Al Sah-him say. 

Al Sah-him, “Fight,” he said quietly to John, knowing that this would end quickly. He was no match. 

“Do you remember when you brought me into your crusade? I told you I’d be here to remind you of who you are, if you became something else,” John ground out, on his knees.

Al Sah-him met John’s eyes, the pain of loss evident in John’s eyes, “I haven’t given up on that promise.” It was then Al Sah-him plunged the sword into John’s chest.

Oliver’s eyes flew open, a small gasp catching in his throat. He lay there a moment very still, quietly looking to his left where Felicity slept. Silently, he eased himself out of bed and padded to the master bathroom, shutting the door before flipping on the lights.

He ran the tap and splashed some water on his face before taking a few swallows, carefully avoiding the mirror. He leaned back from the counter and laid his head on the cool ceramic, taking deep breaths as he waited for his pulse to settle. 

These types of dreams were few and far between as of late, but when they hit, they hit. And this one was the worst. Oliver’s stomach churned as he remembered the resistance of muscle when the sword had penetrated John’s body, and the scraping of bone as he had pulled out the sword. Oliver shook his head, no. John is alive, he told himself. He didn’t kill John. John is alive, at home right now with Lyla and Sara. He hadn’t killed John, he had killed a nameless man. A defenseless man. Oliver’s knees buckled at the thought, and he forced himself up and over to the toilet where he sat heavily, his head in his hands.

No. No. No. He would not do this. He could not do this. He’d been over it a million times in his head. Oliver had done what he’d done to survive. One man’s life versus the lives of everyone in Starling City? The lives of the people Oliver loved the most? At the time, it had been an easy choice. Survival was always the easiest choice. Get over it, Oliver thought to himself. 

He splashed more cold water on his face and took a deep breath before turning off the bathroom light and stepping back out to the bedroom. He sighed inwardly as he saw Felicity, propped up on her elbows, looking at him knowingly. 

“Bad dream?” she asked, as Oliver slipped back under the covers.

He gave her a tight nod before smiling, “I’m fine.” 

Even in the dark of night he could see that she didn’t believe it for a moment, but she knew him well enough that pushing the subject would just leave them both frustrated. Instead, as he settled back into bed, she fit herself into his side, throwing a leg between his and fitting her head onto his shoulder. “I love you,” she said softly, giving him both the comfort and the space he craved.

Oliver kissed the top of her head, “I love you, too.” God, did he love her. 

***

Dig tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel of the black van as he parked it in a nondescript alleyway in the Glades. He had hoped he’d be home before 2 am so he’d get at least a few hours of sleep before his new job at the security consulting firm, but that dream had been squashed when a Glades gangbanger had decided to run on Thea. She’d chased him down six city blocks, stopping him with an arrow through the shoulder before smashing his face with her bow. The gangbanger was now lying in the back of the van, moaning in pain every few minutes, complaining about his head and shoulder.

“Shut up,” Thea said threateningly through her voice changer. She and Dig pulled him out of the back of the van and zip tied him to a pipe running down one of the buildings. After getting back into the van and leaving the scene, Dig called an anonymous tip into the local precinct. 

Thea pulled her mask down and threw her hood back as Dig hung up his phone. Dig kept his eyes firmly on the road, refusing to acknowledge her in the passenger seat.

“Alright, let me have it, Dig,” Thea sighed. 

Dig shook his head, “What do you want me to say? There was no reason to give that low-life thug a broken nose and concussion after you’d already put an arrow through his shoulder.”

“He was really impolite,” Thea grumbled, “He called me a bitch...among other things.”

“Oh, the thug didn’t have manners? You don’t say,” Dig scoffed, and he caught Thea rolling her eyes. “Thea, you cannot let your emotions control your decisions. ”

She started unlacing her jacket, “Like you’ve never been pissed off enough to do some heavy damage to someone?” 

“Yeah, I have, and it felt good, in that moment,” Dig replied. “But I regret it. That’s not what we’re about. We’re about justice.”

“It was wrong,” Thea nodded reluctantly, “Satisfying, but wrong.” 

Dig gave Thea a small smile as he pulled into Lair 2.0 “Be satisfied with catching the bad guys, not pummeling them. Not to mention, we are just getting back into the city’s good graces. We can’t squander that.”

Thea sighed as she hung up her bow and quiver. “I’ll work on my anger-management skills.” 

Dig snorted, not believing that for a moment, “Yeah, anger management has always worked out for the Queens.”

Thea gave him a withering glare. “There’s a first time for everything.” 

“I’ll see ya later, Thea,” he laughed, gathering his things.

“See ya, Dig,” she said looking at her phone, before calling out to him as he opened the door. “And Dig? Thank you.” He waved and headed out.

The drive home gave Dig some time to shake off the night. Thea was good, but still very new to the hero business. The last thing he wanted was for Speedy to get a bad reputation in the Glades as a dangerous vigilante with a take-no-prisoners type of attitude. It was easier on nights when Laurel joined them and could really team up with Thea on the street, but right now she was nursing a dislocated shoulder. 

They were doing good work, the three of them. Admittedly their take-down rate was lower than what he, Oliver and Felicity had been able to achieve, but they were still very much in the re-building phase of, God help him, Team Arrow. They were still trying to win back the city’s faith, slowly but surely. 

Dig let himself into his house as quietly as he could. As much as he loved his daughter, the last thing he wanted was to wake her at 3:30 in the morning. He dropped his keys carefully in the bowl next to the door and eased off his shoes before wandering into the kitchen for a bottle of water and spying a white gift bag with a card sitting next to it. 

Dig opened the card and smiled, immediately recognizing Felicity’s handwriting. The card congratulated Sara on her recent baptism, with a short note apologizing for missing the ceremony. It was signed “Love, Oliver and Felicity”. A rise of resentment rolled through Dig as he focused on Oliver’s name. Even after almost eight months, he could still feel the way his heart had started to quicken as he had walked into his house and realized Lyla was gone, and his baby girl in her crib alone. He could vividly recall the wave of sheer terror he’d felt. He slapped the card back down on the counter, and resolved to look at the gift tomorrow. Right now, all he wanted to do was go to bed and hold his wife. 

***

Oliver was gone when Felicity woke up. It wasn’t totally surprising. While Felicity could easily sleep in until late morning, she’d yet to find Oliver in bed past 6:30, and considering he’d had what looked to be an awful nightmare, he’d probably been up a while. He rarely had a restful sleep after a nightmare. Going about her morning routine, Felicity realized Oliver wasn’t even in the house. He was probably out running.

It was nearing 7:15 when the back door opened into the kitchen and Oliver walked in. Felicity was at the stove, carefully trying to avoid grease splatter, “Good morning,” she said brightly, taking in his very, very sweaty t-shirt. He’d been running for a while. 

“Morning,” Oliver said amicably , as kissed Felicity and not so subtly took the spatula from her, bumping her hip away from the stove. She smiled, took her coffee cup and sat across from him at the kitchen island.

“How was your run this morning?” Felicity asked.

Oliver hesitated a moment before shrugging, “It was okay. Ran longer than I thought I would.” He frowned a moment, staring intently at the bacon in the frying pan.

Felicity narrowed her eyes as she took in the hesitation and thought of his bad dream that was, allegedly, nothing, “Oliver, your face is doing something.”

He didn’t look up, “My face is my face, Felicity.”

“Oliver,” she said, as gently as she could, “Last night…”

“Felicity,” he raised his voice slightly, stormy eyes flashing at her, an iron grip on the spatula. He wasn’t ready to talk about it. Felicity looked away, as did Oliver, and both were silent a moment as Oliver turned off the stove and slipped the bacon onto two plates that already held eggs. He came around the island with the plates and pushed one in front of Felicity before sitting down next to her. 

“It’s not last night,” he said quietly, looking at his plate. 

Felicity rubbed Oliver’s back. “Then what is it?” 

“I thought someone might have been following me on my run this morning.” He blushed a bit, almost embarrassed. 

Felicity immediately sat up straight, “Did you see who? Were they on foot or in a car?” 

Oliver smiled, slightly surprised. “You don’t think I was just being paranoid?” 

“Do you think you were?” It was Felicity’s turn to frown, “Oliver, your instincts are very rarely wrong.” 

Oliver shook his head, “I thought I saw the same car in two different places on my route, but there were different plates.” 

“Still, though, you mix up your running route?” Felicity asked. 

Oliver nodded, “Yeah.” He took a bite of bacon, and Felicity smirked as she saw how carefully he was avoiding the eggs she’d made, “Thanks for believing in my paranoia,” Oliver said, a sheepish smile on his face.

Felicity nodded, “Anytime.” They spent the rest of breakfast chatting about their plans for the day -- specifically Oliver’s plan to paint the living room and his coffee date with Laurel -- before Felicity sighed, having to get to work. She stood and let Oliver wrap his arms around her, “I’ll try to be home by 6, 6:30 at the latest.” They kissed and after a moment Felicity reluctantly pulled away, grabbing her purse and keys.

“So, 7:30, then?” Oliver called as she went out through the back door. 

**

Laurel sat in the cafe facing the door. The table she’d chosen was in a corner, and she could see into the back hallway quite easily. Two, three years ago, it would never have occurred to her to choose to sit in this seat so that she could see the whole room. It was one of many small changes she’d made in her life in the last few years, and she couldn’t help but think they were changes for the better.

Laurel checked her phone and sighed. Some things never changed, it seemed. Oliver was late. She spent a few minutes checking her e-mail. Every few minutes the cafe door would chime and Laurel would look up expecting Oliver. Finally, the door chimed and Oliver came in, and seeing Laurel, waved, a small grin on his face. He headed towards the register to order as Laurel returned the wave, heartened by the smile on Oliver’s face. She liked seeing it.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Oliver slid into the seat across from Laurel and slipped off his jacket, “I got waylaid.”

“You didn’t keep me waiting long,” Laurel lied, “What did you get waylaid by?”

Oliver glanced out the window a moment before shaking his head, “Nothing important. How’s your arm?” He quickly changed the subject.

Laurel grimaced as she gingerly rolled her shoulder, “It’ll be fine. It feels a lot better.” Oliver opened his mouth to respond but quickly shut it and just nodded. Laurel tilted her head to one side, “What?”

“Nothing, nothing at all,” Oliver responded, putting a dumb look on his face.

“If you have something to say, Oliver,” Laurel took a sip of her coffee, determinedly using her bad arm to do so, “say it.”

Oliver held his hands up, mockingly surrendering, “No backseat vigilante-ing.” 

Laurel laughed, “Felicity’s rule?”

“Thea’s.” 

Laurel schooled her face, “Good rule.” She smirked as she took another sip of coffee, and noticed a smear of light blue paint on Oliver’s hands, “I thought you were done painting,” she said as she motioned to his hands.

“I thought so, too,” Oliver said, an annoyed look popping up on his face, “and then Felicity asked Thea what she thought.”

“Is it just me, or has Thea’s honesty gotten more….”Laurel trailed off.

“Brutal?” Oliver finished, “Yeah, not just you.” 

Laurel nodded, “How’s the house, otherwise?” 

“It’s good. Slowly, but surely, we are getting unpacked,” Oliver said, sipping his coffee. Laurel noted how totally at ease he looked, chatting about the townhouse he and Felicity had bought in the Damen Hills neighborhood, talking about ideas he’d had for the roof deck. 

Laurel found herself chuckling to herself. There’d been a time when she had desperately wanted this life for her and Oliver, but Oliver had resolutely and recklessly run away from it. 

Now here they were, nearly 8 years later, and Oliver had entered into a committed relationship. He hadn’t batted an eye at the prospect of moving in with Felicity, and he and Laurel were having a civil conversation over coffee, as friends. This was the most true and honest relationship they’d ever had. 

“What’s so funny?” Oliver asked.

Laurel shook her head, “Oh, nothing. I’m just shocked that Oliver Queen has finally grown up.”

“Yeah, I guess I have,” Oliver nodded, and a sad smile crept across his face, “While we’re on the subject of me growing up, I wanted to run something past you.”

Laurel looked at him a moment, surprised that there would be anything he’d want to run by her, “Shoot.”

Oliver took a deep breath, “So, I have a lot of time on my hands, and I wanted to figure out what to do with it. I’d like something meaningful, important, but without the bow and arrows.” He paused, looking around the cafe and taking a sip of his coffee, “I was running through the Glades the other day, and I ran past where Tommy’s mom’s free clinic used to be.” 

At Tommy’s name, Laurel felt a pull at her heart and had to look away from Oliver for a moment. He waited a bit before continuing, “I remember Tommy was really proud of that clinic, and what it meant to his mom.”

“He was really upset when Malcolm closed it,” Laurel said thickly, her finger tracing the coffee ring her cup had left on the table. 

“I want to reopen the clinic in the Glades,” Oliver said, making eye contact with Laurel, “with your permission.”

“Why do you want my permission?” Laurel asked.

“If I’m going to do this, I’d really like his family’s blessing,” Oliver said simply.

Laurel shook her head, “I’m not...I wasn’t family.” 

“He loved you, Laurel. You were...are family,” Oliver replied. He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. 

Laurel could feel a tear slip down her cheek. With her free hand, she batted it away, “What about Thea?”

Oliver smiled warmly, “Thea’s okay with it. She’s planning on creating an endowment using Malcolm’s money.”

Laurel chuckled, letting more tears fall, “It’s a creative way of dealing with daddy issues.” Oliver huffed a laugh and released Laurel’s hand. She wiped away her tears and looked at Oliver for a moment. It was times like these when Laurel realized why she fell in love with him in the first place. As much as the island had changed Oliver, it had done nothing to squelch the size of his heart. If anything, Laurel thought, his heart and compassion had grown.

“I think it’s a great idea, Oliver. I think Tommy would love it,” Laurel said softly. 

Oliver nodded, “Hopefully it will make a difference in the Glades.” Laurel smiled encouragingly at him, and they closed their coffee date talking about donors, finding and attracting staff, and different logistics. Oliver noted that with her experience at CNRI, she would be one of his go-to sources for non-profit management. 

“Count me in,” Laurel said, and for once Tommy’s memory wasn’t marred by what might have been. Instead, in that moment, she felt empowered by his memory. Laurel found herself hoping that wouldn’t change.

***

Oliver hadn’t known what to expect from Laurel when he’d brought up the clinic and Tommy. Laurel felt a fair amount of guilt over Tommy’s death, and Oliver didn’t want to dredge that up. It was heartening to get Laurel’s blessing about his idea. 

Coming back to Star City had been hard for Oliver. He and Felicity had been back a little over two months. While Felicity was knee-deep in Palmer Technologies, Oliver found that survival was no longer his number one job in life. He was left with a lot of time on his hands, and he could only work out so long. So, when Oliver had found himself winding his long run through the Glades, he’d stopped in front of the old Free Clinic building. He’d only been there a few times, and truth be told, Oliver had never given it much thought. As Oliver had stood in front of the building, he’d noticed a few junkies down the street and an old homeless man sitting on a stoop a few doors down. In that instance, Oliver realized what he wanted to do now that he was back in Star City, and he was filled with a new sense of purpose. 

That very afternoon he’d made his way to Palmer Technologies and Felicity, coffee in hand, to which Felicity had muttered, “You are my favorite person.”She had gulped her coffee down and yelled to Gerry not to disturb her and Oliver for at least 45 minutes.

“So, I think I figured out what to do with my time,” Oliver had asked by way of hello, sitting down on Felicity’s couch while she kicked off her shoes and joined him.

Felicity had snorted, “Being a kept man not suiting you?” 

“No, I do love that,” Oliver laughed and rolled his eyes, “No, I, uh, I went on a run this morning, and I ended up running through the Glades.”

“How do you run that much? I mean, seriously. I can barely do 40 minutes on the elliptical,” Felicity sighed. She waved him off as he snorted at her. “You were running?”

“Yeah, so I was running, and I stopped in front of the old free clinic, the one Rebecca Merlyn used to run,” Oliver began.

Felicity nodded, “The one Malcolm closed, cutting off medical care to disadvantaged people?”

“Yeah. Tommy was proud of the clinic, the work his mom did there. What if I reopened it? Or found the people and resources to reopen it? I think it’s what Tommy would have wanted.” Oliver said to Felicity.

She had been silent a moment, as she had set her coffee cup down and Oliver felt a fleeting feeling of doubt. When Felicity had looked up at him, her eyes were watery but she was smiling, “You always find a way to surprise me,” she said, kissing Oliver’s cheek, “I think it’s a great idea.”

“So I can put Palmer Technologies on my list of potential donors?” Oliver asked, returning her smile.

“Absolutely,” Felicity had said. 

It was nice having a new purpose in his life, a purpose that didn’t involve putting arrows in people. Oliver had found another way to help Star City, and honor Tommy. What could be better? 

Oliver walked Laurel back to the courthouse, leaving her with a promise to keep her updated on the clinic, and an invitation to dinner with him, Felicity and Thea on Friday. He jogged down the courthouse steps and began his walk back to the townhouse, but stopped short at the sight of a black town car, the same type of car he’d seen twice before, on his run and then on his way to meet Laurel. Instead of taking a right, he took a left, his survivalist instincts taking over. 

He fleetingly thought of calling Felicity, but he really didn’t want to worry her, or put her in harm’s way. Reluctantly, he pushed her out of his mind and thought of his options as he headed north. Oliver spotted the farmer’s market on the corner and headed straight for it. 

He used the crowd to melt away, allowing himself cover to take in his surroundings and figure out if he was really being followed. Oliver stopped at a few stands and pretended to peruse the selections while discreetly looking from left to right. It was while he was looking at some strawberries that he caught a man in jeans and a grey shirt a few stands down, eyeing him. Oliver moved from the strawberry stand to a produce stand, and the man trailed him, stopping a stand down from Oliver, which allowed Oliver a closer look. It was then he saw the tattoo on the man’s neck, a dagger wrapping the right side. 

Oliver set down the cucumber he’d been pretending to inspect and calmly started walking deeper into the crowd, keeping his head on a swivel. The man with the tattoo was Bratva, and Oliver wasn’t naive enough to believe he was alone. 

Oliver kept moving through the crowd, heading north from where he’d entered. When he inconspicuously looked over his shoulder, he saw the man with the knife tattoo and another man, burly with a beard, heading towards him. Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver could see a third man standing near, eating an apple and smiling menacingly at Oliver. The farmer’s market had been a bad idea. They were funneling him towards the north exit. He stopped a moment, looking for another way out. 

“Oliver Queen,” a deeply accented voice greeted him. It was the man with the apple. He extended his right hand, “It is good to meet you.”

He was in public, in broad daylight, and with very little options. Oliver warily shook the man’s hand. The men trailing them had caught up to him, and as Oliver was shaking the man’s hand, he felt cold steel pressing through the back of his gray henley. 

“Let’s take a walk, Mr. Queen,” the man with the apple said. Oliver found himself flanked by the three men, and short of outing himself as someone, as Felicity would put it, who could kill all three with just his pinky, there was nothing he could do but walk with them. 

As they exited the farmer’s market, Oliver spotted another town car, with yet another Bratva leaning against it, arms folded. This was a show of power, a message to him that there was nothing he could do or say that would help his situation. 

The men led Oliver to the town car before finally grabbing him by the arm and jerking him left into an alleyway where a final town car was parked, the trunk partially opened. As they led Oliver to the car, he made his move, reaching up and grabbing the man with the apple’s throat. He used his momentum and circled the man around, bowling him into the man with the tattoo on his neck, sending them both to the ground. The burly man with the beard grabbed Oliver from the back, wrapping both arms tightly around Oliver, and he began to lift Oliver off the ground. With all his might, Oliver flipped his head back, and winced as he felt the back of his skull connect with the burly man’s nose. The burly man screamed in pain and dropped Oliver, who caught himself by grabbing the town car’s bumper.

Oliver didn’t see the taser as he tried to get his feet back underneath himself. He only felt the hot, painful shockwaves course through his body, his muscles spasming. His legs collapsed underneath him, and the last thing Oliver felt was his head connecting with the car’s bumper sending him into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to [@hotcookinmama](http://hotcookinmama.tumblr.com/) for being the best beta around, and [@cherchersketch](http://cherchersketch.tumblr.com/) for the amazing artwork!

[](http://imgur.com/5B0V6JD)  


After tossing and turning most of the night, or really, early morning, Lyla had graciously let Dig sleep in. When he did get out of bed and amble into the kitchen, Lyla pushed a mug of coffee into his hands and kissed his cheek, the white gift bag from Felicity and Oliver gone from the counter. Both of them adjourned to the living room where they sat on the floor, letting Sara climb over both of them like they were jungle gyms. 

“What was keeping you up?” Lyla asked, as Sara pulled herself up using Dig’s knees. 

Dig shook his head, “Nothing. I was just a bit too wired from patrolling with Thea.” He kept his eyes on Sara.

“So, it had nothing to do with the gift that was sitting on the kitchen counter last night?” Lyla smiled slyly as she called Dig out.

“Lyla, I really don’t want to have this conversation, again,” Dig sighed deeply.

Lyla reached out her hand and rested it on Dig’s knee, “I’m right here.”

Dig shook his head, “You could have been…” He squeezed his eyes closed, the mere thought of losing Lyla leaving him breathless. 

“Hey,” Lyla said, moving her hand from Dig’s knee to the back of his neck, forcing him to turn his head and look at her. She waited until he opened his eyes, “I’m pretty capable of handling myself. I’m a survivor, and I am not leaving you or Sara.” Dig nodded, tilting his forehead towards Lyla, touching her forehead. They held there for a moment, before Sara began babbling and grabbed Dig’s chin before falling on her bottom. She pouted in frustration, which made Dig and Lyla both laugh, instantly making Dig feel better. 

That feeling held through the rest of the morning when Dig arrived at his semi-new job as a security consultant, even through a training about disaster response, which was comical to Dig. He had “responded” to so many disasters in the past three years he’d lost count. After the training, Dig headed out for lunch.

The sky was overcast and gloomy, but it was still nicer being outside than cooped up in an office building. Dig ambled down the street, watching as busy people buzzed by, trying to look important with their smartphones out and briefcases swinging. He passed a newspaper stand, noting the Starling City Sentinel headline -- “Gang Activity Down in Glades” -- and smiled, knowing that was partly in thanks to him, Thea and Laurel. 

When he reached Big Belly Burger, his phone chimed with a text letting him know his lunch date was coming, but running late, or at least that’s what Dig gathered from the running woman emoji. He smiled, not at all annoyed. 

Felicity rushed in a few minutes later, uttering apologies for her meeting running late. 

Dig shrugged it off, “It’s a lot of work, ruling the tech world, Miss CEO.”

Felicity rolled her eyes as she perused the menu. “Ruling the tech world, sure.”

“One day,” Dig laughed. “Part of your ten-part plan to take over the world, right?” 

“Yes,” Felicity said mockingly serious. “But if I told you any more, I’d have to kill you.” The approaching waitress gave Felicity the side eye, causing Dig to snort and Felicity to turn red. They placed their orders and waitress walked away, shaking her head.

“So things at Palmer Tech are going well?” Dig asked. 

“Yeah, we’ve been restructuring R&D, and we’re actually looking to move it out of Palmer Tech HQ,” Felicity replied. 

Dig nodded, “Scared somebody’s going to blow up a floor again?” 

“Well, Ray’s accident did shut down Palmer Tech for a month and lost us millions of dollars, and you know, Ray,” Felicity said, looking away for a moment before breathing out a sigh. “We’re thinking of building a new building where the old Applied Sciences building was, state of the art, safe for us to, you know, blow up things.” They chatted for a few more minutes about Palmer Tech before their food came.

“So, how are Lyla and Sara?” Felicity asked, digging into her fries.

“Good, both good. Sara is so damn close to walking. She’s teetering and tottering,” Dig said, beaming. “Thanks for the baptismal gift, by the way.” 

Felicity smiled, but Dig could see the disappointment in her face. She hadn’t seen much of Sara or Lyla since she and Oliver had been back. Dig threw her a lifeline. “We’ve all missed you.”

“So, why don’t we have dinner?” Felicity hedged. “You guys could come over; Oliver will cook. Did you know Oliver can cook? Like legitimately can cook. It’s amazing. His chicken cordon bleu, is quite frankly, the best thing you will ever eat, and you could see the house, it’d be great…”

“I don’t know that’d be the best idea,” Dig said. 

“I know Oliver betrayed your trust, I get it, I really do,” Felicity said softly. “But after everything the three of us have been through…”

“Felicity,” Dig cut her off. “You don’t get it. Not really. I don’t know that you have ever really felt that fear of your loved one, taken from you, a threat of death held over your head. That feeling? Chills you to the bones. Your heart stops, your chest hurts every time you take a breath because you can’t help but think that might be the last breath your loved one takes. That is real fear, Felicity.”

Felicity looked to be on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry, Dig. I just wish…”

“I know,” Dig said. He reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’m happy for you and Oliver, I really am, but I’m not ready to accept him back into my life.” 

Felicity nodded. She looked down for a moment before wiping all sadness and disappointment off her face. “So, no locking you two in a room. I was just trying to avoid a custody dispute. I’ve been told I’m irreplaceable.”

Dig huffed a laugh, “Ain’t that the truth.” 

***

Felicity had resolved to be home by 6pm; she really had. Gerry had given her a 30-minute warning on his way out the door at 5:30, but that ship sailed when she’d stopped into Curtis Holt’s lab. 

An hour later, Felicity was walking out of Palmer Tech, happy with herself that she was only a half hour late. She pulled out her phone to call Oliver and gloat that she’d be home before 7:30. His phone went straight to voicemail. Felicity clicked through to her messages, noting Captain Lance had called, which was weird, and Oliver hadn’t texted her at all this afternoon, not since before he went for coffee with Laurel. 

That’s...odd, she thought to herself. She tried calling him again, but again, his phone went to voicemail. Felicity thought back to that morning, when Oliver had self-consciously confessed his paranoia of cars following him. No, that’s ridiculous, Felicity thought to herself as she eased her car into traffic. He’s probably at home, she decided, putting the finishing touches on the new living room color. 

Traffic was a bear, and Felicity seemed to hit every red light, unfortunately allowing herself time to think about her lunch with Dig, which had been so, so awkward. She’d hoped she could talk Dig into dinner with Oliver, with her and Lyla as buffers, but deep down, she knew it was a lot to ask of Dig. 

It didn’t make it any less hard though. Felicity knew how these things went. She’d hitched her wagon to Oliver’s, and she didn’t regret it one bit. She loved him so much. She loved the life they’d built, but there was one piece missing: Dig. Sure, she and Dig grabbed lunch once a week, and there were the occasional texts, but how long would that last? Their lives were hardly intersecting now, what would it be like in a six months? A year? 

That thought kept Felicity worrying right up until she pulled in front of the townhouse, dark and quiet. Before she even stepped foot into the house, she could tell Oliver wasn’t home, and a deeper worry surfaced. 

She rushed into the house, disarming the security system and dumping her stuff on the kitchen table before calling Thea.

“Hey, Felicity, what’s up?” Thea asked when she answered.

Felicity tried to keep her voice light, “Hey, just wondering if Oliver was with you? He’s not answering his cell.” 

“No, I haven’t heard from him today,” Thea said, a bit hesitantly. “Is everything alright?” 

Felicity tried to shake off her growing worry. “Probably, but I haven’t heard from him for a few hours, before lunch, actually.”

“That’s not normal, is it?” Thea asked. “You two are usually joined at the hip.”

“We are not…” Felicity bristled, “No, it’s not totally normal. We usually text a couple times during the day.”

“Okay, when was the last time you guys spoke?” Thea asked.

“Well, he texted around noon. He was on his way to meet Laurel,” Felicity said. “Will you call Laurel? See when she saw him last?” 

“Sure,” Thea said, sounding unsure. “Are you sure everything’s alright? Do you think something happened?” 

Felicity sighed, “I’m not sure. I guess after months of always being within yelling distance of Oliver, this is freaking me out a bit.” 

“Like I said, joined at the hip,” Thea snorted. “I’ll call Laurel right now.”

Felicity gave Thea her thanks and hung up. She grabbed her laptop, powered it on and went about pinging Oliver’s cell. There was a stab of doubt that she was entering crazy girlfriend territory, but she’d apologize later.

A moment later, her laptop beeped a notification. “Alright sir, where are you?” Felicity asked as she evaluated the screen. Her heart sank. “Wait, what?” The GPS location on Oliver’s phone was here, at home. Seriously, Oliver? She thought. Felicity let out a sigh of frustration, making her way through the ground floor of the house, seeing if he’d left his phone lying around. 

The doorbell rang, making Felicity wonder out loud, “Did you leave your keys, too?” She threw open the door, immediately surprised by who was on the other side.

“Ms. Smoak?” Captain Lance said. He lifted his hand into Felicity’s view. In it, was Oliver’s phone. “We need to talk.” 

**

Wherever he was, it stank. There was a bag over his head that didn’t help the nauseating smell. It was an overwhelming smell of raw meat mixed with a musty smell that told Oliver he must be in some sort of basement. 

He was cuffed to a chair, ankles and wrists. The cuffs were tight, cutting into his skin. There was no way he was going to get out of them, even if he dislocated one of his thumbs. The chair he was sitting on was metal, but as his fingers slid across it as far as they could reach, he couldn’t feel any screws or bolts that could help him. He was stuck. Rattling the cuffs against the chair out of frustration, he took a moment to think back to the last thing he remembered. Breakfast with Felicity…. painting….Laurel...farmer’s market... Bratva. 

But why? It’d been almost two years since Oliver had cut ties with the brotherhood, but there hadn’t been any indication of reprisal. Oliver had always suspected Anatoli Knyazev had protected him from any retribution, but maybe he’d reached the limits of Anatoli’s protection. 

Oliver tried to piece together the Bratva men who’d escorted him from the farmer’s market. They’d been mostly non-descript, tall, buzzcuts, and tattooed, including one with the dagger tattoo wrapped around his neck. 

A door banging open and footsteps pounding steps stopped any further speculation and confirmed Oliver’s suspicions he was in a basement. The footsteps came towards him, and the bag was ripped off his head. Oliver’s eyes took a moment to adjust as he looked at the three men standing before him. 

“It has been a long time, Mr. Wilkins,” said the center man, in a heavy Russian accent, throwing his hands up in deference. “Excuse me, not Mr. Wilkins, Mr. Queen.” 

Oliver’s heart dropped, as he realized who was before him. Leonid Volkov. This was not good. Not good at all.

***

Russia, 2011

The thumping music of the club set Oliver on edge. His arms felt prickly from the irritation and anxiety he felt. He didn’t like being here, but Anatoly had summoned Niko. Niko in turn had summoned Oliver to accompany him. 

Niko had grudgingly accepted Oliver as a boyevik, a Bratva foot soldier, because Anatoli had ordered it. Niko didn’t like that Anatoly held Oliver in such high esteem, and Oliver knew Niko felt threatened by him. He gave Oliver menial jobs that other, lower-ranking members of the Bratva could and should do, even though Oliver had earned himself a bloody reputation as an enforcer for Anatoli. 

Niko was like a leech, Oliver had decided, attaching himself to someone, sucking off what he could in order to get ahead, and then abandoning them for a new specimen. In many ways, Oliver saw Niko as a penniless version of himself, before the Queen’s Gambit, without conviction or original thought, using others for his benefit. 

The club Anatoly frequented was decorated like some weird, red-velvet harem. Oliver shadowed Niko as they made their way through the crowd of underdressed women and vodka-soaked men. Ahead of them, in the VIP section sat Anatoly, who had two leggy women sitting on either side of him. His arms were wrapped around the shoulders of both. They giggled as the boss whispered into their ears. When he saw Niko and Oliver, he waved the girls off, and proceeded to stand up, shaking Niko’s hand and clasping his shoulder. 

“Niko, good to see you,” Anatoly said. He turned towards Oliver, who tried to give him his hand to shake but instead was welcomed into Anatoly’s arms with a giant bear hug. “Oliver! It is good to see you!” He said jovially. Oliver returned the hug reluctantly, but he couldn’t help but smile. At least someone was glad to know him. 

“Come, let’s speak in my office,” said Anatoly.

“Anatoly, I was very glad to hear from you,” Niko said once they were in the opulent office, tapestries all about.

Anatoly nodded, turning towards Oliver as he sat behind his desk. “Oliver, you know where I keep my vodka.” Oliver dutifully grabbed the bottle and three shot glasses, pouring for the three of them. 

“Prochnost,” Anatoly said, raising his glass towards Oliver and Niko, both returning the sentiment and downing their shots. 

“To business,” Anatoly said, suddenly. He handed a file folder over to Niko, who flipped it open and started purusing. “A few cargo bins of Vityaz-SN machine guns are going to fall off the truck Thursday night. Your brother owes me favor.”

“We will take care of it,” Niko replied, handing off the folder to Oliver, who tried his best to look over the file and keep up with Anatoly and Niko’s conversation. His Russian was getting better, but there were times he still struggled. Oliver looked over the file, a stolen military file, flipping to the last page to find the truck’s route from the Kubinka airbase. 

“The men with the truck are paid?” Niko asked. 

Anatoly shook his head, “Only two. The driver and one of the men who will be in back with the cargo. The others…” He trailed off, letting Niko and Oliver draw their own conclusions. 

“It will be done, Anatoly,” Niko said. 

Anatoly stood up to shake Niko’s hand, “If you need more men,” he began, but Niko interrupted him. 

“Utkin owes my brother and I. You will have the guns Friday,” Niko said. Anatoly nodded, shaking Niko’s hand as he led him and Oliver to the door.

“Oliver, you gave Reznik my message last night?” Anatoly asked. Oliver saw Niko take a tense breath. He didn’t like Anatoly’s attention towards Oliver.

Oliver nodded, “You will have your money tomorrow.” 

Anatoly smiled, “Your Russian is getting much better.”

“I’ve had a very good teacher,” Oliver said, smiling. 

“You have, you have!” Anatoly laughed, “Did I not tell you? I would teach you and I have!” 

“Thank you, again, Anatoly, I will get this done for you,” Niko said, ending the conversation. They left Anatoly with another round of handshakes and made their way back through the crowd. Niko practically threw the file folder at Oliver once they were in the car. 

“Tomorrow night you will stake out the intersection at Koroleva and Roscha. See if it is a viable point of attack. Do you understand?” Niko said as slowly and condescendingly as he could in Russian. 

“Yes,” Oliver said, fists clenching the file folder. 

“Good,” Niko Volkov said. “Do not let me down, myasnik.” 

***

The precinct was buzzing, as always, and Lance couldn’t help but smile as he walked from the coffee carafe back to his office, cup of joe in hand. After the crazy spring Star City had, the SCPD had worked long and hard to bring order back to the city. He was proud of the men and women who made his precinct run smoothly, putting their lives on the line to help the people of Star City. 

Lance watched as two uniforms escorted a young, white male scowling furiously through the bullpen to the back of the building toward processing. 

“How’s it goin’?” Lance asked as they walked past him.

One of the uniforms grinned, “Great, sir. Hill pulled CCTV earlier today for some suspicious activity and saw this guy pickpocketing his way to 6 wallets and 5 cell phones. He’s ballin’.“ 

Lance narrowed his eyes, “I have no earthly idea what the hell that means. Carry on.” He shook his head as he entered his office, about to close the door. 

“Hey!” Laurel said, edging in through the door. 

Lance smiled, kissing her cheek, “Hey, baby. Coffee?” 

Laurel shook her head, “No, I’m fine, thanks.”

“What brings you down today?” Lance asked. 

Laurel sighed, “I needed the files on the Ellis investigation.” She plopped down in the seat across from Lance’s desk. She looked like she had something to tell him, so Lance took the seat next to her, rather than his desk chair. 

“Everything okay?” Lance asked his daughter. 

Laurel looked confused. “With the Ellis investigation? Everything’s fine, but the DA wants to move…”

Lance shook his head. “No, no. With you? Everything okay?” 

“Everything’s fine, Dad,” Laurel said. She stopped a moment, before looking at him, hesitant. 

“C’mon, what’s going on?” Lance asked. He was glad they’d gotten their firm footing back in their relationship, and he wanted to keep it that way.

“Oliver and I had coffee today,” Laurel began, and Lance instinctively rolled his eyes. “Really, Dad?” 

Lance put his hands up in deference, “Sorry, Sorry, habit. What was it about? He’s not getting back into…”

Laurel shook her head, “No, that didn’t come up at all.” Lance sighed in relief. The last thing the city needed was Queen back under the hood. “It was about Tommy, actually.”

“Tommy?” Lance asked.

“Oliver wants to reopen Rebecca Merlyn’s free clinic in the Glades,” Laurel said, a genuine smile on her face. 

“I think the world might be ending, because I think that’s a great idea.” Lance reached out for his daughter’s hand. “You feel good about it?”

“Yeah, I think it’s great; it’s just...I’ve been thinking about Tommy all afternoon. He was so angry at Malcolm when the clinic closed. He’d be so happy to see it reopened.” Laurel looked away from her dad. “Oliver wanted my permission to do it… Said I was Tommy’s family.” 

Lance moved his chair closer to Laurel and wrapped his arms around her. “You were family, baby. He loved you. He’d be really proud of you right now.” 

“I hope so,” Laurel whispered. They sat there a few minutes while Laurel got her breathing under control. “Thanks,” she said as she collected her things. 

“Dinner in an hour or so?” Lance asked, looking at the clock to gauge when he’d be done. 

Laurel nodded, “That’d be great. The Patty Shack?” 

“Perfect,” Lance said, kissing Laurel on the cheek. He watched Laurel walk out of the precinct, looking a bit lighter. 

“Captain Lance?” Detective Hill called out. 

“Yeah,” Lance said, approaching Hill’s desk. There were a few wallets and cell phones sitting in evidence bags on it. “From the pickpocket brought in?”

Hill nodded, “Yep, but I thought you’d be interested in one of the wallets and cellphones.” He handed one of the evidence bags to Lance, with a worn brown wallet in it. Lance took it out, opening it to look at the driver’s license. 

“I’ll be damned,” Lance said. He was staring at Oliver Queen’s face. Hill handed another evidence bag to Lance, with a cell phone. Through the plastic Lance thumbed the home button, the display lighting up to show a beaming Oliver, his arms wrapped around Felicity in front of him. “Interesting. Where’d they collar the perp?” 

“A few streets from the farmer’s market. Apparently he’d been pickpocketing to his heart’s content there,” Hill said. “We’re putting together CCTV right now of the perp’s walk around the market.” 

Lance nodded. “Let me know when it’s done.” He walked back to his office with Oliver’s wallet and cellphone. It felt a little weird. He didn’t believe that Queen would allow himself to get pickpocketed. Lance pulled out his own phone and texted Laurel asking what time she met Queen for coffee. A moment later she responded back with noon and a question mark. Pick pocket was in the area, check your purse, he responded back before getting a smiley face emoji and an okay dad. 

Lance sighed and dialed Felicity to let her know he had Oliver’s wallet and phone, and to see if Oliver had filed a report with the downtown precinct. When Felicity’s number went to voicemail, he hung up and called her direct line at Palmer Tech, which also went straight to voicemail. He was about to call Laurel when Detective Hill knocked on the door. “Captain, CCTV is done. I sent it to you.” 

“Thanks, Hill,” Lance said, turning to his computer and pulling up the footage. He watched as the young pickpocket made his way through the farmer’s market, pickpocketing as he went, before heading north out of the farmer’s market and out of view. Lance watched it three more times before he headed out to the bullpen. 

“Hill, uniforms said you were pulling footage for something else when the pickpocket caught your eye?” Lance asked.

Hill leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, Morris met up with his wife at the market for lunch and saw some suspicious men.”

“What made them suspicious?” Lance asked.

“Big, burly, one with a gnarly tattoo on his neck, looked out of place at a farmer’s market, and they looked like they were converging on a target. He thought it might be a drug deal or some sort of transaction. I told him I’d look into it,” Hill said. “I saw three men, but it was hard to tell if anything passed hands.”

Lance nodded, thinking for a moment before asking, “Send me that footage?” 

“Sure,” Hill said. “I’ve got three victims coming in to id their stuff. Queen’s next on my list.” 

Lance waved Hill off, “I already tried calling his girlfriend. She didn’t answer. I’ll try again in a bit.” 

“You have his girlfriend’s number?” Hill cocked his head, smirking.

“Queen and I go way back…” Lance started explaining before remembering who he was talking to. “Shut up, you wisecracker. CCTV footage?”

“Already emailed to you. Sir,” Hill replied, standing up and leaving his desk with a sloppy salute.

Lance walked back into his office and immediately opened the second set of footage Hill had sent. He quickly spotted the men Morris had described, definitely looking out of place in the farmer’s market. It took watching the footage two more times before he spotted him: Queen, stopped at a produce stand, seemingly looking at what it had to offer. Lance watched Queen move away to the edge of the video frame before stopping a moment, and then, there it was. One of the suspects approaching Queen, right for him, and then they both moved out of the camera’s view. 

“Dammit,” Lance said to himself. This was not good. Not good at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to [@hotcookinmama](http://hotcookinmama.tumblr.com/) for being the best beta around, and [@cherchersketch](http://cherchersketch.tumblr.com/) for the amazing artwork!

[](http://imgur.com/5B0V6JD)  


“Ms. Smoak?” Captain Lance said. He lifted his hand into Felicity’s view. In it, was Oliver’s phone. “We need to talk.” 

Felicity felt her heart sink. “Why do you have Oliver’s phone? Oh, God...Did you arrest him? Again?” Her eyes narrowed. “You should know we can afford very good attorneys now.” 

“I bet you can,” Lance chuckled. “Can I come in?” 

Felicity opened the front door wider and stepped back, allowing Lance into the house. “So did you, in fact, arrest Oliver again?”

“No, I didn’t,” Lance replied. “When did you talk to him last?” 

“This morning, before I left for work,” Felicity said, closing the door. “Why do you have his phone?” 

Lance sighed, “We arrested a pickpocket who had the phone on him, along with this.” Lance pulled Oliver’s wallet from his jacket pocket. 

“There is no way in hell that pickpocket would still be walking if he tried to pull a wallet or phone off Oliver,” Felicity said. 

“That’s what I thought, so I looked into it. CCTV footage shows your guy entering the farmer’s market and three guys trailing him.” Lance said. 

“Do you know who those men were?” Felicity asked. 

Lance shook his head. “No idea. I talked to the pickpocket who had no idea either.” 

Felicity started to twist her hands. “So how did that pickpocketing jerk get Oliver’s phone and wallet?” 

Lance took a deep breath. “He said he found it in an alleyway north of the market.”

“Oh, god.” Felicity whispered, sinking down into a chair.

“Look, we’ll find him. He’s going to be fine.” Lance put a hand on Felicity’s arm trying to comfort her.

Felicity shook her head. “He was right. His dumb paranoid face was right.”

“What?” 

“He went for a run this morning, and thought someone was following him. A car.” Felicity stood up abruptly, nearly knocking Lance down. “Okay. We need a game plan. Can you send me the CCTV footage?”

“Yeah,” Lance looked around. “Do you have a new secret lair downstairs here with the tech?” 

“No, Palmer Tech.” Her eyes widened. “Which you will never, ever be able to prove.”

Lance rolled his eyes, “I assume ‘the team’ can meet us there?” 

Felicity nodded. “Looks like the band’s getting back together.” 

**

Dig heard Thea before he saw her. 

“Okay, when was the last time you guys spoke?” Dig heard Thea say as he reached the bottom of the steps into Lair 2.0. Thea came into view, perched on a stool next to one of the computer stations, talking on her cellphone. She waved at Dig as she listened to the person on the other end of the line. 

Dig walked over to the small armory of guns, grabbing one of his guns and cleaning supplies. 

“Sure,” Thea said into the phone “Are you sure everything’s alright? Do you think something happened?” Dig’s eyebrows raised as he set his things down on the table next to Thea, interest piqued. 

“Like I said, joined at the hip,” Thea snorted. “I’ll call Laurel right now.” She hung up the phone and sighed.

“Everything okay?” Dig asked.

Thea hesitated a moment with a look that told Dig all he needed to know. The call was about Oliver. “Probably nothing to worry about,” Thea said finally. “Felicity hasn’t heard from Oliver all day, and she wanted to see if I’d talked to him.” 

Dig frowned. “Felicity’s worried?” 

Thea cocked her head. “More paranoid, I think, but yeah. I’m gonna call Laurel.”

“Call me about what?” Laurel asked, entering Lair 2.0. 

“Felicity hasn’t heard from Oliver since this morning. She said you had coffee with him?” Thea asked. 

Laurel nodded.”Yeah, but that was hours ago. We got coffee, and he walked me back to the courthouse… That was around one.” 

“Okay, I’ll text Felicity that,” Thea said, biting her lip.

“Felicity’s worried?” Laurel asked. 

“Yeah, they usually talk throughout the day, texting and stuff.” Thea replied. “How was he when you saw him?”

Laurel mulled the question over a moment. “He was fine. Happy, actually. There wasn’t any indication something was wrong.” 

“And there probably isn’t,” Dig put in. “As his former bodyguard, I know from experience Oliver’s ability to effectively disappear.” Withholding information, like his whereabouts, wasn’t exactly surprising behavior coming from Oliver. 

“Still...he’s been off the radar for, like, six hours,” Thea said. “Can we do a search? Run facial recognition?” She gestured to one of the computers, looking to Dig who knew exactly how to run the search. 

Dig sighed. “Yeah, but it’ll take a while, and in the meantime, Oliver will show up. Not to mention the fact that if he didn’t want to be found, he’d know how to avoid CCTV cameras.” 

“If you don’t want to help, Dig, just say so,” Thea bit out. “Just because you have a problem with Oliver doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t be worried about him.” 

Dig took a deep breath, just as Laurel’s phone pinged that she had a text. “Thea, there is no proof that something is wrong with Oliver. What there is, is a pattern of him disappearing and lying. Why should this time be any different?”

“Because it is,” Laurel said looking at her phone. “We need to go upstairs to Felicity’s office.”

“Why?” Thea asked. 

Laurel held up her phone, showing the text was from her dad. “Because my dad thinks Oliver’s been taken.” 

***

Russia, 2011

The truck was managing to hit every bump and hole in the road, jarring Oliver’s arm. He tried his best to apply pressure to the gunshot wound, while also keeping as stoic as possible. 

Niko was watching him closely, sitting across from Oliver in the back of the military truck they’d just taken. Maybe now Niko would start trusting him, having taken the bullet defending Niko. 

“How bad is it?” Niko asked, out of courtesy. 

“It’s fine,” Oliver said, evenly. 

Niko nodded. “You will not die from blood loss if we stop a moment?”

Oliver narrowed his eyes, “I think I’ll be okay.”

Niko didn’t respond, instead pulling out his cell phone, tapping a few keystrokes. 

A few moments later the truck lurched to a stop. Niko jumped up, throwing the military truck’s back open. Oliver made to follow him, but Niko put a hand up. 

“Stay here,” Niko said, jumping down from the back of the truck, not waiting for Oliver’s response, while he beckoned two of Utkin’s men to follow. They jumped down from the truck and positioned themselves a few feet away. Oliver heard the truck doors slam in the front, the men probably stationing themselves in front of the truck. And here Oliver was, in time out. 

Oliver sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. Between the gunshot wound, and last night’s all nighter staking out the intersection, he needed a bed, soon. Oliver shook his head, opening his eyes. Not yet. He needed to stay sharp. 

Oliver looked out into the inky night. Niko stood under a street light, talking to a man dressed in black. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they seemed to be negotiating, going back and forth, hands gesturing.

It seemed not all of the guns would be making it back to Anatoly. It wasn’t a total surprise. The brotherhood worked on favors, and while Anatoly was a very, very big fish, sometimes, even the little fish could be helpful. What worried Oliver, though, was the fact that Niko was doing this right in front of Oliver. 

Suddenly, shots were fired. The man Niko stood with under the street light dropped, belly bleeding. Oliver shot up from the bench in the truck, raising his gun. Niko took cover behind a car. 

Oliver watched as Utkin’s men crumpled to the ground. Oliver pressed himself against the side of the truck. He could hear more of Utkin’s men at the front of the truck returning fire, and Niko firing off a few shots from behind the car, but from the sound of things, they were losing. 

Oliver heard a strangled cry from the front of the truck. Another man down. Taking a deep breath, Oliver jumped down from the truck, diving underneath it for cover. The gunshots were coming from the east, so that’s where Oliver focused. He waited, not wanting to waste shots. 

It occurred to Oliver that there was no backup coming. There’d been a second car with more of Niko’s men, not Utkin’s. Where were they? Why hadn’t they been trailing the truck? 

From underneath the truck, Oliver could see men approaching. He fired off shots, taking out two men. 

He saw another pair of legs coming out of the corner of his eye on his left. They looked to be running towards the driver’s side door. Oliver launched himself out from under the truck, tackling the man. Catching the man off guard, Oliver was able to snatch his rifle and grab the strap attached, pulling it around the man’s neck. With just the right amount of force, Oliver snapped his neck, and dropped the body unceremoniously to the ground. 

Oliver had no time to react when he felt the butt of a rifle make contact with the back of his head. He found himself back on the ground, disoriented, as he heard Russian shouts and doors clanging shut. A moment later, the truck pulled away. 

Staggering up from the ground, his left shoulder aching fiercely, he watched as the guns he’d taken a bullet for were driven away. He surveyed the scene, bodies littering the pavement. In the distance he could hear Niko yelling for him. There was no time to waste. They needed to get the hell out of there. 

**

“So, he just got...kidnapped? He let himself get kidnapped?” Thea asked in disbelief. She couldn’t believe her brother would let that happen to himself. They’d watched the CCTV footage showing what seemed to be Oliver ambily walking off with three burly, badass-looking men. 

“Well, it was probably either that, or let everyone in that market know what Oliver Queen is capable of,” Dig shrugged. 

Laurel sighed, “So, they got him into the alley. Do we have CCTV of that?

Felicity shook her head. “Captain Lance pulled footage from around the alley, but we can’t see what happened.”

“Two town cars, like the ones Oliver described to Felicity, are seen leaving, but they’re two non-descript black town cars with fake plates…” Captain Lance trailed off. 

“No way to track,” Thea grumbled. 

“So what’s the play, then?” Dig asked. Thea tried not to be annoyed by the fact that only ten minutes earlier, he’d been sure Oliver had disappeared of his own accord. 

“I’m running facial recognition right now. Hopefully we can get a hit,” Felicity replied. 

Captain Lance crossed his arms. “You know, it’s a bit wrong that you have facial recognition software and the SCPD doesn’t.” 

“Talk to the FBI. They’re the ones I borrowed it from,” Felicity said, tapping her fingers on the table impatiently.

“Borrowed?” Thea asked.

Felicity opened her mouth but the dinging of her computer made her swivel her chair around. “I’ve got a hit!” 

“Which one?” Laurel asked.

“Creeper with the neck knife,” Felicity said, reading the screen. “Dmitri Krupin.” 

Dig stood up, crossing to Felicity. “That sounds…”

“Yep,” Felicity replied, moving back so everyone could see the screen, but keeping her eyes on Dig. “He has ties to the Bratva.”

“Damnit,” Dig said. Over the past few months, Thea had been witness to wordless conversations between Felicity and Oliver, always in sync with one another. Now, as she witnessed a wordless conversation between Felicity and Dig, she could see why they and Oliver had made such a good team. 

“What’s the Bratva?” Thea asked. 

“Russian mafia,” Captain Lance shook his head. “What did Queen do to piss off the Bratva?” 

Dig and Felicity exchanged another look, uneasy. 

Thea stood up from her stool, annoyed. “Spill it.” 

Felicity took off her glasses to rub at her temples while Dig said an incomprehensible sentence. “Oliver is a member of the Bratva.” 

“Oliver...Oliver Queen is a member of the Bratva?” Laurel asked. “As in the Russian mob responsible for human trafficking, gun running, and drug smuggling?” 

Captain Lance paced, his silent ire making Thea nervous although it was a bit refreshing not to be the only one not in the know, Thea thought. 

“It was before he came back…” Felicity said.

“So there was a Bratva chapter on the island?” Captain Lance scoffed. Off Felicity and Dig’s silence, Captain Lance shook his head. 

“Wait,” Laurel said. “If he’s a member of the Bratva, why did they take him?”

“Technically speaking, they revoked his membership… He’s not exactly a member anymore,” Felicity replied. 

“He burned some bridges with them trying to track down Slade Wilson two years ago,” Dig explained. “Their leader, Alexi Leonov was killed in the process.” 

“So payback for Leonov?” Lance asked. 

“I don’t know,” Dig said. They were all silent a moment. Thea had no idea what to think. Up until now, it had been taking out would be rapists and gangbangers. She was out of her depth. 

“Phone!” Felicity said, standing up suddenly, looking at Captain Lance. 

He returned a quizzical look. “What?” 

“Oliver’s phone, you still have it,” Felicity said, holding out her hand. 

Captain Lance handed over the phone. “You can hack into it or something?”

“Nope,” Felicity said, tapping at the screen. “I can just put in the password.” 

“Perks of dating,” Thea smiled thinly.

“What are you doing?” Dig asked. 

Felicity sighed. “Something I’m sure I’ll regret.” She held the phone to her ear, and a moment later said, “Anatoly? It’s Felicity Smoak.”

***

“It has been a long time, myasnik,” said the center man, in a heavy Russian accent, throwing his hands up in deference. “Excuse me, Mr. Queen.” 

Oliver’s heart dropped, as he realized who he was talking to. Leonid Volkov. This was not good. Not good at all.

The man with the neck tatoo pulled a chair out for Leonid, who sat, unbuttoning his suit jacket and smoothing out his tie. This was not the Leonid Oliver remembered from Moscow. Leonid, like his brother, Niko, had been simple enforcers, products of the Moscow slums of their birth. They had been crass, greedy for money in a way Oliver couldn’t understand. 

“I have learned many things since moving to Star City,” Leonid said, smiling thinly at Oliver. “Imagine my shock at learning who you really are.” 

Oliver took in the expensive suit, the clean-shaven face, trimmed hair. “You appear to have done quite well for yourself, Leonid,” Oliver replied. 

Leonid shrugged, trying to look modest. “The unfortunate passing of Alexi Leonov left Star City in need of new Bratva leadership. I was happy to oblige.” A sinister look crept over his face. “There are places Anatoly Knyasev cannot reach, and I was happy to find Star City has become one of them.” 

Oliver smirked, slightly. “I thought you would have learned better than to underestimate Anatoly.” 

Leonid shot out of his chair, swinging his fist right into the side of Oliver’s face. It was with enough force that Oliver and the chair were tipped sideways. Oliver groaned as his head and body slammed into the concrete floor. 

“Oh, I have learned, Mr. Queen. I have learned quite a lot,” Leonid said. Before Oliver could reply Leonid kicked Oliver in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Oliver saw black spots for a few agonizing moments, his lungs refusing to fill with air.

“I have learned, for instance, you are no longer Bratva member in good standing,” Leonid said. He motioned wordlessly to his thugs who, without any sort of care, righted Oliver and the chair. Leonid sat back down, primly tugging on his shirt cuffs as if he hadn’t just flown off the handle. 

Oliver didn’t reply. It was true. He’d forsaken the brotherhood in his fight against Slade, and now, it had come back to bite him. Technically, Leonid could do whatever he wanted to Oliver without fear of reprisal from the brotherhood. 

Leonid sat back in the chair, grinning. “Yes, you betrayed the tenets of the brotherhood, and now you are in my city.”

“This is not your city,” Oliver said threateningly. He was greeted by a slap by one of the thugs.

“No, no, no,” Leonid said. “That’s enough for now. We need to keep his face pretty...mostly.” 

**

“Oliver Queen!” Anatoly answered, nearly yelling. In the background, Felicity could hear a faraway thumping bass. 

“Anatoly?” She hesitated, wondering if he’d remember her. “It’s Felicity Smoak.” 

“Ah, yes! Oliver’s woman!” Anatoly replied jovially.

Felicity’s eyes narrowed. If anything, Oliver was Felicity’s man. Kept man. “Uh, yeah, Oliver’s woman. Sure.” She tried to ignore the raised eyebrows of the people around her.

Anatoly’s jovial voice turned serious. “This cannot be good if it is you calling, Miss Smoak.” 

Felicity sighed. “It’s not. Anatoly, we have reason to believe the Bratva chapter of Star City kidnapped Oliver.” 

Anatoly cursed in Russian. “I was afraid of that.” 

“Afraid of what?” Felicity asked.

“There is new Bratva leader in Star City. Leonid Volkov. He has history with Oliver,” Anatoly replied.

Felicity closed her eyes. “Of course he has history with Oliver. What happened?”

There was a stretch of silence on the phone. “Oliver once questioned Leonid’s brother, Niko.”

It was Felicity’s turn to be silent while she processed. Conscious of who was listening, she asked, “What do you mean questioned?” 

“Under my orders… You’re aware what skills Oliver has. Leonid was not happy about it. Things ended badly,” Anatoly said. 

“How badly?” Felicity asked. “Anatoly, what happened?”

“Niko died,” Anatoly replied. “Leonid blamed Oliver.”

“And it never occurred to you to warn Oliver that Leonid was in Star City?” Felicity asked, anger rising.

“Miss Smoak, I have a fond place in my heart for Oliver Queen, but he left me in a vulnerable position when he betrayed Alexi. I vouched for him. I made him a captain. I raised him above others, native Russians who’d worked their entire lives for Bratva.” Anatoly’s voice grew cold and distant, chilling Felicity. “I have to think of my future, the future of my family.”

“And what about the future of mine?” Felicity asked gently. 

Anatoly’s voice softened a bit. “Felicity, I wish you and Oliver the best, but I don’t know what help I can offer.” With that, Anatoly hung up.

Felicity looked helplessly at Dig. “That could have gone better.” 

“Anatoly’s not in a helpful mood?” Dig asked. 

Captain Lance stepped forward. “Who’s Anatoly?” 

“Anatoly is a friend of Oliver’s in the Bratva… He’s the one who made Oliver a captain,” Felicity explained, setting down Oliver’s phone with a bit of force.

“Where is Oliver’s...friend?” Laurel asked. 

“And why won’t he help?” Thea chimed in.

Dig sighed. “Anatoly’s in Russia, and unfortunately, we don’t have any favors to call in.”

“One of these days, your boy is going to have to show me a map and explain to me how he got to Russia via Lian Yu,” Captain Lance sneered at Felicity.

“It’s a long story…” Felicity began. And really, it wasn’t her story to tell, mostly because she didn’t know most of it. 

Captain Lance interrupted, “It usually is.”

“Regardless,” Felicity raised her voice. “We need to focus on how to find Oliver.” She looked to Dig while moving to her computers. “Anatoly said that there’s a new leader of the Star City Bratva who has a beef with Oliver. Leonid Volkov.” 

Dig nodded.”Okay, that’s a start. Captain Lance, have you heard of him?” 

Captain Lance nodded. “Name sounds familiar. Bratva’s hard to touch. They deal mostly in drugs here in Star City, but the money they make from it is cleaned very well and the SCPD doesn’t have the resources to track it.”

“According to the FBI, Volkov started in Moscow under Anatoly, worked his way up before moving to the States a few years ago...and stepped into the power vacuum Alexi Leonov left after Slade killed him,” Felicity said, looking up from her screens.

“So where do we go from here?” Thea asked. “And why is this Volkov guy after Ollie?”

Felicity hesitated answering. Dig picked up on it. He always did. “Did Anatoly say why Leonid would be after Oliver?”

“He said Leonid blames Oliver for his brother’s death,” Felicity answered, carefully.

“Why does he blame him?” Lance asked, a grim look over his face. 

“I don’t know,” Felicity said, looking to Dig, who only looked down and away. “Anatoly ordered Oliver to question Niko, and Niko died. Leonid blamed Oliver.”

“Questioned? That’s what you’re calling it?” Dig scoffed. 

Felicity shook her head, refusing to judge the situation. “We don’t know the circumstances.” 

“Seems to me the circumstances are pretty clear,” Thea mumbled, looking utterly disappointed in her brother. 

“You think your brother was involved in Leonid’s brother’s death?” Laurel asked.

Thea shrugged, “I just know that the Hood used to drop a lot of bodies.” 

Exasperated, Felicity stood up. “Listen, it doesn’t matter the circumstances. What matters is that we find Oliver.” 

Dig nodded slowly, as did Laurel and Thea. The questions could wait. 

“Alright, let’s figure out where Volkov’s base of operations is,” Dig said. “We can start with the garage Alexi and his men used as a front. C’mon Thea, you and I can do a drive by of the place.” 

“I’ll go suit up,” Thea said, turning to leave Felicity’s office, stopped, along with everyone else as Gerry knocked on Felicity’s door.

“Felicity?” Gerry asked, looking thoroughly confused.

“Gerry! What are you still doing here?” Felicity replied, feeling incredibly nervous.

Gerry shrugged. “I was finishing up a few things. Security just called. A courier service dropped this off for you. Marked urgent.” Gerry held up the large manila envelope in his hands. 

Felicity approached, grabbing the envelope and all but pushing Gerry out the door. “Thanks, Ger, really, but you should really go home. It’s late.” 

“You’re on your way out as well?” Gerry asked, looking back at everyone in Felicity’s office. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Thanks, Gerry.” Felicity closed her door on Gerry, and watched him vaguely wave at her before walking towards the elevators. 

“Do you usually get mail this late?” Thea asked. 

Felicity shook her head, turning the slightly bulky envelope in her hands. It was addressed to her, but there was no return address. With shaking hands, Felicity ripped open the envelope and shook out the contents.

Dig was right. Felicity had never felt true, real fear until right now. She felt her chest tighten, her heart stop, and her skin itched at the goosebumps. Even last year, when Oliver had gone to face Ra’s, as scared and worried as Felicity had been, not knowing anything had allowed her to have hope he was okay. Absolutely knowing Oliver wasn’t okay? This was absolute terror.

In her hands was Oliver’s wristwatch, covered in blood and a picture of Oliver, face bloodied and bruised, 7 pm scrawled in black marker at the bottom. Felicity’s mind went blank, blind fear taking over. She didn’t register when she felt the objects taken out of her hands, until Thea laughed darkly.

“A Polaroid? How hipster,” she said.

“Well, we have proof of life now,” Lance said. 

“Do you think they want to deal? Like a ransom?” Laurel asked. 

Thea flipped the Polaroid photograph over. “There’s no demands.” 

“Yet,” Dig said, looking over the envelope. “There’s a reason he’s still alive.”

Felicity could hear them talking, hear them speculating, but there was nothing she could add. She sat down at her computer for a moment, trying to remember to breathe, wondering how easy Oliver was breathing right now. 

“Felicity?” she heard faintly, before a more forceful, “Felicity!” knocked her back into reality. Dig was standing right next to her, looking concerned. There was something chiming in his hand. Her phone. 

Felicity took the phone. The caller id was blocked. She took a deep breath. “Hello?” 

“Ms. Smoak, yes? This is Leonid Volkov. I believe I have something of yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On tumblr at [@kayleegee-writes](http://kayleegee-writes.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to [@hotcookinmama](http://hotcookinmama.tumblr.com/) for being the best beta around, and [@cherchersketch](http://cherchersketch.tumblr.com/) for the amazing artwork!

[](http://imgur.com/5B0V6JD)  


Russia, 2011

Anatoli had not been happy about the ambush. In fact, he’d been downright menacing, as he directed Niko to find the stolen vehicle with the guns, shouting obscenities as Niko slunk out of the office promising to find the guns and truck. 

Oliver had stayed silent, allowing the Bratva doctor to tend his shoulder wound while Niko had explained to Anatoli what had happened, why Utkin was down six men, why Niko’s own men had not been trailing behind the truck. 

“They were stopped by the police, we had to pay them off so they would not ask questions,” Niko had said of the second car. “They did not want to give notice to the truck, so they went to the rendezvous a different way.” 

It was then Anatoli had started shouting, directing Niko to find the goods. 

Oliver watched Anatoli stalk over to his desk, pouring himself a shot of vodka and slamming the bottle down with such force it made the doctor flinch, causing a flare of pain for Oliver. Anatoli sat and watched the doctor stitch Oliver’s arm, clearly waiting for the doctor to leave. It made Oliver incredibly uneasy, a silent Anatoli. As jovial as Anatoli usually was, he could also be ruthless. Oliver had a sinking feeling he’d only seen a glimpse of that ruthlessness on the island. 

The doctor finished his work in short order and left quickly, leaving Oliver and Anatoli alone. Anatoli beckoned Oliver over to his desk, pouring him a shot of vodka. They muttered, “Prochnost,” to each other before downing the shot. 

“So,” Anatoli said, his glass banging on the desk. “What happened tonight?” 

Oliver looked levelly at Anatoli, “Niko explained it well.” 

Anatoli huffed out a laugh, “Yes, Niko was very precise in his story. Wolanski, the would be usurper… a thorn in my side. It was well rehearsed.” He poured another round of shots, and swallowed his down before continuing, “What did you see, Oliver?” 

Oliver was honest. He had a duty to Anatoli; he owed Anatoli his life. He owed nothing to Niko. “Niko’s men in the second truck never caught up to us. They should have converged on our location. We had no back up. Niko called them off,” Oliver replied. 

“I knew Niko had big career plans, but I did not anticipate his stupidity. His brother is a friend.” Anatoli sighed and poured another round of shots. 

Dutifully, Oliver downed his, before asking, “What would you like me to do?” 

“Find where NIko has my guns.” Anatoli answered. He met Oliver’s eyes. “Niko will pay, in blood. Will you be ready?” 

This time, it was Oliver who poured the shots. “Yes.” 

**

“Where is Oliver?” Felicity demanded, trying to keep tears at bay. She didn’t want to descend into a blithering mess while on the phone with Oliver’s kidnapper. That just didn’t seem to be good form.

“I am taking very good care of Mr. Queen,” Volkov replied.

“So a Polaroid of his face covered in blood is what you call taking good care of him?” Felicity scoffed, looking to Dig who mouthed “speaker” to her, and she obliged, so everyone could hear the conversation. She gently set the phone down, hitting a few keystrokes on her computer to start a trace. 

Volkov laughed. “Well, unfortunately Mr. Queen opened his mouth. I had to remedy that problem.” 

“What do you want with him?” Felicity asked.

“I feel as though I have two options before me. I can kill Mr. Queen, or... I can make this a lucrative opportunity for me and my associates,” Volkov replied. Felicity could feel the creep vibes coming through the phone. 

“How much money do you want?” Felicity asked. Of course Volkov wanted money. That’s what every bottom feeder wanted: money and power. She silently started calculating how many assets she could liquidate, quickly.

“I think 8 million is a fair price for Mr. Queen, don’t you?” Volkov said, and Felicity’s stomach dropped. There was no way she could liquidate 8 million. Around her she could feel everyone tense upon hearing the steep price, Dig making a motion with his hands to keep Volkov talking. 

“8 million?” Felicity said, trying not to sound dubious. “That’s going to take a while to put together.”

Volkov laughed, “I’m sure you can do it. If you are anything like your boyfriend, I know you are resourceful, yes?”

“Why are you doing this? What is Oliver to you?” Felicity asked, her anger rising. 

“He is the man who tortured my brother, who made him suffer for hours, made him bleed for hours and then left me to be the one to put him out of his misery,” Volkov replied, his voice dark. “I have a mind to leave Mr. Queen in the same condition he left my brother.” 

“I’ll get you the money,” Felicity bit out. 

“Expect instructions for an exchange in 8 hours,” Volkov said, quite suddenly chipper. “And Ms. Smoak? I would not contact the police. Any hint of police interference and you will find Mr. Queen at your doorstep with a bullet to the brain.” The phone disconnected.

Felicity looked to Dig, who was monitoring the computer. “Well?” 

“Got him. He’s on 7th and Weller,” Dig smiled grimly and looked at Laurel and Thea. “Suit up.” 

Laurel and Thea left the room, leaving Dig, Felicity and Lance. 

“You going to be okay?” Dig asked Felicity, who nodded fiercely.

“I’m fine. Go.” Felicity said. Dig squeezed her shoulder and walked out. 

Lance sighed. “I’m gonna head to the precinct, see if I can get some patrols out that way, look for any suspicious behavior. 

“Thank you, Captain,” Felicity replied, before turning to her computers to set up the comms. 

Lance was halfway out the door before he turned and said, without waiting for Felicity to turn around, “At some point, he’s going to have to come clean about everything, you know that, right?” 

Felicity let her head fall a moment before turning to Lance. 

“I just mean, he has a lot of baggage, and at some point, it’s gonna put all of us in danger,” Lance continued. “Maybe even tonight.” He didn’t wait for Felicity to answer, instead walked out of her office shaking his head as he pulled out his cell. 

“But he’s worth it,” Felicity whispered, to nobody. 

****

The mood was tense in the van as Dig drove them to 7th and Weller. Dig was silent, and Thea looked as though she was sucking on a lemon. 

“Are you okay?” Laurel asked Thea, as the two sat in the back on the benches. 

Thea sighed, rolling her eyes a bit, “I don’t know why I’m even surprised anymore. Oliver has more secrets than the Illuminati, and I know that, but…”

“It doesn’t hurt any less when you’re excluded from them,” Laurel finished, her eyes flashing towards Dig in the driver’s seat whose eyes were pointedly looking forward. 

Thea nodded. “I feel like... ever since Ollie told me he was the Arrow, we’ve had a real relationship. This is the closest I’ve felt to him since he came back, but there’s a part of him that’s always going to be out of reach.” 

Laurel nearly laughed, completely understanding where Thea was coming from. Thea had just perfectly summed up Laurel and Oliver’s years of dating. “I get it, Thea, but you have to see where your brother is coming from. His instinct is to protect you from darkness, and that includes the darkness in him.” 

“I can’t imagine ever loving him any less because of the things he’s done,” Thea said.

“Oliver can,” Laurel replied gently, thinking back to a conversation years ago, shortly after her father had tried to arrest him for being the vigilante, the first time. He’d been trying to convince Laurel he wasn’t the vigilante, and he’d succeeded, but he hadn’t been lying. Oliver had been scared that if people knew the truth about his time away, they’d see him as something else, not worthy of their love.

“I just wish he’d give me a chance,” Thea answered back.

“But he won’t. That’s not how Oliver operates, and he never will,” Dig spoke up, fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly. “We’re here.” 

Silently, the three eased out of the van into a dark alleyway, a block down from Weller, the conversation tabled. They headed for the abandoned warehouse where Felicity’s trace of Volkov’s call had pointed them.

“I’ll take the roof,” Thea said, splitting off from Laurel and Dig, firing an arrow and rappelling up the building. 

“There’s a fire escape right around the corner,” Dig said on the comms, rolling his eyes. 

Thea huffed out “Boring,” making Laurel and Dig chuckle. 

“Take this side entrance,” Dig directed to Laurel. “I’ll go around the other side.”

“Got it,” Laurel nodded. She adjusted her Canary Cry, making sure it was fitted properly over her vocal chords. Dig nodded to her and took out his gun, sticking to the building’s shadows as he crept along the building, disappearing around the corner. 

Laurel also slipped into the shadows, finding a door, locked. Okay, then. With all her might she lifted her foot, kicking at the door knob. The force knocked her back a few steps, but the door didn’t budge. Dammit. That wasn’t badass at all. Again, Laurel kicked at the door, a small growl escaping her lips as she put all of her weight down on the door. This time, it gave out, opening as wood splintered and the lock broke. 

Laurel smirked, and headed in, conscious of the noise she’d just made. It was possible she’d just let somebody know she was there. It was dark and dingy, the door had opened to a wide open space, and no one was there. A clanging door across the expanse of the warehouse startled Laurel, but she settled when she saw Dig, backlit against the outside streetlight as he stepped into the warehouse, gun drawn. He immediately dropped it when he saw Laurel.

“Dammit,” Dig said, looking around at the obviously empty warehouse. 

Laurel sighed. “No one’s here.” 

Dig nodded, “Probably made the call here, knowing there was a chance it’d get traced.” 

“Well, this was a bust,” Thea called out, from a corner of the warehouse, climbing down steel stairs. All three met in the center of the warehouse. 

“Do you guys see anything that can help us?” Dig asked. “Any clues?” 

“There was nothing upstairs,” Thea answered as Laurel looked around dubiously. There was nothing here, beyond trash and old wood. “And I don’t see much else down here.” 

“Now what?” Laurel asked. 

Dig looked down a moment, kicking a wood board and shrugged. “I don’t know.”  
They stood together, silent as they weighed options. Laurel tried to think things through, going over all the information. 

“Maybe Felicity can track down who owns this property. Do you think that could get us a bead on Volkov?” she asked outloud. 

“It’s probably a shell corporation, not tied to Volkov, but yeah, she can try it,” Dig said, uncertain.

Thea’s eyes lit up. “Wait, what about the garage you were talking about? The Bratva front? Let’s go check it out. Maybe we can pick up a lead there.” 

Dig nodded. “Palmer Tech is on the way. You guys can drop me off and I’ll check on Felicity, see if she’s come up with anything, while you two check out the garage.” 

When they got to the van, Dig in the front, Thea and Laurel in the back, Thea whispered to Laurel, a gleam in her eye.

“We’re totally ditching the van for the motorcycles, right?” 

***

Dig entered Felicity’s office slowly, mugs in each hand. He had no good news to offer her from the warehouse, so he offered the next best thing: coffee.

“You’re an angel!” Felicity exclaimed as he carefully set a mug next to her elbow. She grabbed the mug, settling it between both her hands, inhaling the fresh coffee smell before taking a small sip. She then looked levelly at Dig. “So nothing at the warehouse, huh?” 

Dig shook his head. “I’m sorry, Felicity. Nobody was there.” 

“He made the call there, then left,” Felicity surmised. “Didn’t want to be tracked.” 

“Yeah,” Dig replied.

“Where are Laurel and Thea?” Felicity asked setting the mug of coffee down, turning to fully face Dig. She looked tired, and a bit unkempt, truthfully. Her mascara had run a bit, and her ponytail was askew, with wisps of hair out of place. It would do her some good to step away from her computers for a few minutes, wash her face and redo her ponytail, but Dig knew better than to say anything. 

“They are going to the garage that the Bratva used as their front when Alexi Leonov was leader. Maybe they’ll find something,” Dig said, sitting down on a stool next to Felicity.

“You didn’t go with them,” Felicity pointed out. “You don’t expect anything to come from the garage.” 

“I wanted to check in on you,” Dig replied. He reached out and put his hand on her arm. 

Felicity sighed, putting on her fakest smile. “I’m okay.” 

Dig cocked his head. “Felicity, you have the worst poker face.” 

“And here I thought I was getting better at lying,” Felicity laughed, sniffling a bit. “He’s faced down Malcolm Merlyn, Slade Wilson, Ra’s Al Ghul… I shouldn’t be as worried as I am, but…”

“It’s okay to be scared, Felicity,” Dig said. “But we will get him back.”

Felicity stood up from her stool, restless. “How? We have no idea where he’s being held, and I can’t find a legal way of getting a hold of 8 millions dollars.”

“Aren’t you the CEO of a billion dollar corporation? You have money now,” Dig asked.

“I mean, yeah we have a ridiculous amount of money, but we don’t have 8 million at our fingertips,” Felicity shrugged. “What money Oliver had left after Isabel ruined him, he -- well I -- invested for him, so that’s a nest egg we can take, and I can liquidate some of my stock, and I’m sure Thea can fork over some of Malcolm’s money, but she’s not totally liquid either.” Felicity had clearly done the math. 

“Okay, so what do we do?” Dig asked, frowning. 

Felicity hesitated, frowning as she said, “We are going to fake a wire transfer.” 

“Why do you sound so unsure about this? This seems like child’s play for you,” Dig replied.

“Well, depending on the bank that Volkov uses, it could be,” Felicity sighed. “I’m trying to find his bank of choice right now, so that I can cut through their security features before we have to do the transfer.”

“And it’s not a one size fits all?” Dig rubbed his hand over his face.

Felicity nodded. “Nope, it is not. And guess what? The Bratva? Use shady tax havens all over the world.”

“Needle in a haystack,” Dig said, sitting down next to Felicity. “Okay, what do you need from me?”

“A master's in cybersecurity?” Felicity asked, taking a deep swallow of the coffee. 

“I do not have that, but I do have a wife with connections. I can call her, see if any old A.R.G.U.S. contacts have anything on Volkov,” Dig said standing up and fishing out his cell phone from his pocket.

Felicity opened her mouth to reply, then shut it fast and just nodded tightly.

“What?” Dig asked.

“Nothing,” Felicity fixed her gaze at her computer screen.

Dig circled to the back of Felicity’s computer, his arms crossed. “Felicity.” He said slowly. 

Felicity hung her head for a moment before pushing back from her desk and standing up. “It’s just...You’re just now calling Lyla?” 

“You thought I already called her?” Dig asked, confused. Need to know was standard procedure in the Diggle household. It hadn’t occurred to Dig to talk to Lyla beyond an earlier text he’d be home late.

It was Felicity’s turn to cross her arms, looking hurt. “It’s just...it didn’t occur to you to ask Lyla for help earlier?”

“Felicity, we’ve been in situations before that have gone fubar, this is no different,” Dig said.

“Yeah, but we had Oliver,” Felicity answered back.

Dig let out a long slow breath. He didn’t like where this was going. “Now that Lyla’s quit A.R.G.U.S., she only has a few favors to call in.” 

“And Oliver isn’t worth it?” Felicity shook her head, her voice rising. “I can’t believe you. You are still so mad at him you’d let him die?” 

“Felicity, I’m calling Lyla right now, now that I know how she can help,” Dig said patiently. He knew Felicity well enough to know her anxiety usually resulted into her lashing out. He didn’t wait for Felicity to acknowledge him. He walked out to the elevator bank and made his phone call.

“I had to fall asleep in front of the tv all by myself,” Lyla answered, sleepily. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” Dig chuckled, “Lyla, we have a bit of a situation here, and I need your help… Well, Oliver needs your help.”

“Read me in,” Lyla said, and Dig could just picture the switch from mother to badass agent. 

Dig explained the situation, who had Oliver and what they needed from her. He could hear her moving around their apartment, bottles clanking and toys squeaking. 

“Okay,” Lyla said, as Dig heard Sara’s stuffed pig making a distant oinking sound. “I’ll drop Sara off at the neighbor’s and start working on Volkov’s financials from my end. A.R.G.U.S. tries to keep on top of crime syndicates in the U.S. I should be able to find something. I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”

“Okay, sounds good,” Dig said. 

“This was why you were going to be home late?” Lyla asked.

Dig sighed, “Yeah, I didn’t want to worry you.”

He was sure Lyla’s eyes had narrowed, “You need to let it go.”

“Lyla, I don’t think now’s the time,” Dig said, his voice rising a bit. He looked towards Felicity’s office self-consciously. 

“No, now is exactly the time,” Lyla said, her voice also rising. “I know you don’t understand why Oliver did what he did, but I do. He did what he thought he had to do to defeat Ra’s. I’m not saying he was right, but he was trying to save the people he loved.”

“By putting the people I love in danger?” Dig shot back. 

“John, it’s not that simple and you know it. He was trying to save the whole city too. The world isn’t black and white. Sometimes it requires us to make tough decisions, whatever the personal cost,” Lyla answered back, softly. 

“I love you,” Dig return said, in awe of this woman, who didn’t blink at offering help for Oliver. 

“I love you, too,” Lyla said, “I’ll call you as soon as I know something.” 

When Dig walked back into Felicity’s office, she was no longer at her computer. She was sitting on one of her couches, glasses off and looking out the window. Dig sat down next to her, putting his arm around her. 

“I’m sorry,” Felicity said, as she allowed herself to be pulled in close to Dig.

Dig shook his head. “Nothing to be sorry for. You’re worried. I get it.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask of you, to help him, and to ask Lyla to help,” Felicity said. 

“Lyla just read me the riot act for not calling her earlier,” Dig admitted. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Yeah,” Felicity sat up straight.

“How did you get past everything Oliver did with the League?” 

Felicity was silent a moment. “By remembering that however dumb his decisions are, Oliver’s heart is always, always, in the right place.” 

Dig frowned. “It’s that simple?” 

Felicity shrugged. “I wouldn’t have confronted the Demon’s Head if I wasn’t in it for the long haul.”

Dig pulled Felicity back into his side. “God, you two were made for each other.” 

Felicity smirked, just a bit. “You jealous?” 

“Not at all,” Dig laughed, “Lyla held Waller at gunpoint on my behalf once.” 

“And blew up the clock tower,” Felicity said wistfully. 

Dig nodded. “The things we do for love,” realizing how lucky he and Oliver were to have two women that were much, much better than them. 

“Yeah,” Felicity whispered in agreement. 

“We will get him back.” Dig said quietly. He felt Felicity nod, before her shoulders began to shake a bit. He held on tighter. 

***

As if the day couldn’t get any worse, Volkov had his men take a few Polaroids of Oliver. His scowl was probably 60% caused by his hatred of his photo being taken and 40% the fact that they’d kidnapped him. All he knew was that he was pissed. Really pissed. 

“What are you going to do with those?” Oliver asked, though he had a good idea. 

Volkov sat back in his chair, smirking. “You know, I never thought I would see you again. After Russia.” The smirk melted off into a deep frown. “I always thought the last time I see you, would be in that warehouse, your hands stained red from my brother’s blood.” 

Oliver looked away, his handcuffed hands instinctively clenching and unclenching, ashamed at the memory. After months of being free of constant compartmentalization, Oliver was having a tough time pushing the image of Niko out of his mind. He could vividly recall the image of Niko nearly choking on his own blood, in terrible pain because of what Oliver had done to him. 

Leonid seemed to enjoy Oliver’s discomfort, glancing through the Polaroids. “But what luck I have! Who would have thought I would stumble across The  
a.k.a. Oliver Queen? Ex-billionaire castaway?” Leonid laughed, gleeful. 

“Yeah, ex-billionaire. There’s no money to be made from me,” Oliver gritted out.

“I disagree,” Leonid shook his head. “I was quite content to just put a bullet into your brain, but as my men gathered information, we found you are not quite ex-billionaire anymore, no?”

Oliver smiled grimly. Leonid was going to demand a ransom from Felicity. “What makes you think you’ll get the money?” 

Leonid shrugged. “Little girls will do anything for love.” He laughed as Oliver visibly tensed against the slight, his hands and ankles jerking against the cuffs. Leonid stood waving the Polaroids towards Oliver. “I have call to make. Please be a good boy.” He strode confidently over to his thugs, whispering something in Russian Oliver couldn’t decipher. One of the thugs followed him out the door, while the other took a few steps forward towards Oliver, arms crossed. The babysitter, apparently. 

Oliver kept a blank, placid face as his babysitter kept an eye on him and weighed his situation. No doubt, Volkov was going to call Felicity and demand an ungodly amount of money. Felicity would try and trace the call. If Volkov was smart, he wouldn’t call from wherever Oliver was being held. The trace would go nowhere but no doubt the team would follow that lead. Oliver would probably stay alive while Volkov waited for Felicity to get the ransom money. 

Oliver’s nostrils flared thinking back to Leonid’s “little girls” jab towards Felicity. That was one positive at least. Volkov was so severely underestimating Felicity’s intellect and ingenuity his guard would be down. There were resources other than money Felicity had that Volkov didn’t know about. 

Oliver tried to put himself into Felicity’s shoes. She’d probably work to get the money together. How, Oliver wasn’t quite sure. Yes, they had money again, but Oliver never really thought about how much they had. All he knew was that he had his AmEx card back and at every opportunity Felicity would refer to herself as his Sugar Mama. He doubted they were as liquid as they needed to be in order to fulfill whatever incredible sum of money being demanded by Volkov. He had no idea how she was going to do it. 

Oliver really wished he’d paid more attention to her when she did talk about finances. In his defense though, there were times, like when talking finances, that Oliver was so impressed with Felicity’s intelligence and insight, he wouldn’t be able to listen to what she was actually saying out of awe at her genius. For so many years, Oliver had been an incredibly shallow person, only concerned with how a girl looked. Sure, Laurel was incredibly smart, but that wasn’t what had attracted him first. It was only after he had been attracted to her looks that he’d gotten to know how smart and funny Laurel could be. 

But Felicity. He fell in love with her personality, her genius, her passion and confidence first. Oliver had never so diligently in his life, tried to treat a woman with such utmost respect. So yeah, there were times when Felicity would talk and Oliver wouldn’t totally be listening because there was always a small voice in his head saying, “Wow,” over and over again. 

Oliver forced himself to put Felicity -- wonderful, distracting Felicity --, away out of his mind. He needed options. He could sit tight, hope for the best that she’d find him, that the team would find him, but that wasn’t enough for Oliver. He’d gotten himself in this mess; he needed to get himself out of it… one way or another.

The basement door banged open, and two more Russian thugs, one of them the neck tattoo guy, came down the stairs, issuing orders in Russian to Oliver’s babysitter. He was being moved. 

Perfect. 

There was a moment of deja vu, as the thugs approached, two with guns drawn, Oliver eerily feeling like he was back in that warehouse, kidnapped, mere days after coming home. Those men, even with their masks, probably wore the same smirks these thugs did. They were confident, too confident, that Oliver couldn’t, wouldn’t, fight back. 

How wrong they were.

The third thug circled to Oliver’s back, and Oliver allowed him to cuff his hands together behind his back. Oliver didn’t need his hands free. The henchman kneeled down in front of his captive and began uncuffing his ankles. Oliver was completely still, and waited patiently as his left ankle was released and then… 

He heard the click of the cuff releasing from his right ankle, and he seized the moment, shoving his foot hard into the thug’s shoulder. The thug bowled into one of the men behind him, leaving only one upright. Oliver sprang up from the chair, dodging a bullet from the approaching man’s gun. Circling around him, he slammed his foot at the back of the man’s right knee, sending him to the ground howling in pain. 

The man with the neck tattoo, recovered from being bowled down, had jumped up, punching Oliver in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. Oliver shook his head in disorientation before quickly taking the opportunity to slide his hands from behind his back through his legs to his front, a slight cockiness taking over. He grabbed the chair, knocking into the head of the man with the neck tattoo, and found the henchman’s gun next to his prone form. 

The thug who’d been so kind as to uncuff Oliver grabbed at his former captive’s ankle as he stood. Oliver slammed his foot on the man’s hand, and with two successive gunshots into the back, the man stilled. 

Oliver surveyed the ground, a small piece of satisfaction popping up inside him as he looked at the men laid out. Something glinting in the light caught his eye. The key to the cuffs. Oliver took a moment to put down the gun and get the key. After some contorting, he unlocked the cuffs. Oliver shook out the stiffness, and picked up the gun again, looking towards the stairs. If anyone else was in the building, he was sure they must have heard the gunshots. 

He ran to the stairs, taking them two at a time before getting to the door and carefully opening it. He found himself in a short, narrow hallway, empty. Oliver could hear Russian being spoken around the corner, at least three distinct voices. He took a moment to breathe deeply, muscles protesting at the exertion after sitting so long, a quote from Lethal Weapon coming to mind.

There were no other doors in the hallway, and only one exit, towards the Russian voices. Oliver wished he had a mirror, or a piece of glass or something that would allow him to peek around the corner. The voices weren’t coming any closer, and Oliver felt unnerved. Hadn’t they heard the gunshots downstairs? 

Oliver checked his gun one more time, and then, with his ears tuned into the echoing of the voices to locate where his shots needed to hit, he slipped around the corner, gun raised.

There were very few times in Oliver’s life when he had ever felt deep embarrassment. It was probably because the many, many times he should have felt embarrassment he was too drunk or high to remember the incident. There had been the time during a camping trip his sophomore year he’d had sex with Ashleigh Morgan on a bed of what turned out to be poison oak. Trying to explain to his mother (and then the doctor) where the ensuing rash developed had been mortifying. 

This might have been worse. While he’d only heard three voices, there were definitely more than three Russians in the room as he pointed his gun towards them. More like eight, some sitting, some standing, all looking towards him, smirks on their faces, their own guns trained on him.

Oliver grimaced. They’d heard the fight downstairs, and knowing this was his only exit, they’d been content to sit back and let him walk into this. Oliver held his hands up in deference and lowered his gun to the ground. He stilled once he stood back up, tense and straight-backed.

“Mr. Queen,” a gruff voice said behind him, the barrel of a gun at the back of Oliver’s neck. “Leonid said you were smart.” The gun connected to the back of Oliver’s head, and his knees connected with the ground. A tiny voice in the back of his head, Felicity’s, was rattling on about concussions, and the perils of so many hits to the head, and Oliver tried to shake away the double vision. 

“How wrong Leonid was,” the voice behind Oliver said as he walked around into view of Oliver. The man with the neck tattoo. “He’s gotten his pictures. I think we can have some real fun now.” It was the last comment Oliver registered for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On tumblr at [@kayleegee-writes](http://kayleegee-writes.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to [@hotcookinmama](http://hotcookinmama.tumblr.com/) for being the best beta around, and [@cherchersketch](http://cherchersketch.tumblr.com/) for the amazing artwork!

[](http://imgur.com/5B0V6JD)  


Russia, 2011

Oliver grimaced, his shoulder aching a bit as he shrugged off his coat. The synthetic-drug lab Niko ran for his brother in the abandoned shoe factory was hot, and Oliver wrinkled his nose at the smell as he entered. His arms itched with agitation as he observed the men and women in only underwear working, being watched by Bratva patrolling with guns. He wondered how much cocaine he’d snorted had come from places like these.

Niko’s office door was open, allowing Oliver to step into the doorway. Niko was holding court with a few of his men, sitting behind his huge, ornately carved, wood desk. Niko looked smug, pleased with himself, but Oliver saw how small he looked. The setting reminded of the photo of himself at age six sitting behind his father’s desk at Queen Consolidated pretending to talk on the phone. He idly wondered if it still sat in one of the picture frames in the foyer of the Queen mansion. 

“Oliver, the myasnik,” Niko said, puffing on his cigarette. He seemed oddly cheery, the opposite of someone whose guns had been stolen. “How is your shoulder?”

“Niko,” Oliver returned, his nostrils flaring a bit at the nickname he’d been given. “Doctor patched me up just fine.”

Niko nodded. “You did good last night, kept your head.” 

It took a massive amount of self control for Oliver not to roll his eyes at that condescending compliment and how slowly Niko spoke, as if he was sure Oliver would not be able to keep up with the Russian. 

“Thank you,” Oliver grit out. “I was wondering if I could be of any assistance in locating the truck and guns.” He matched Niko’s slow cadence of speaking. If Niko wanted to underestimate Oliver, so be it. 

“No need,” Niko waved him off, tipping his head towards a man named Yury. “Yury has a lead on where Wolanski may have it.”

“Then how can I be of service?” Oliver asked.

“Go about your usual business,” Niko shrugged. “I think Abram needs another set of eyes on the floor for now.” 

Oliver smiled tightly and left Niko’s office, sighing as he made his way out to the cocaine-prep floor, effectively banished from Niko’s presence. He walked silent circuits around the tables set up for the workers to work. Niko’s office door was open, and Oliver tried to discreetly peer in every time his circuit put the doorway into view. There didn’t seem to be much business going on, just a lot of drinking and smoking, loud voices carrying on boisterously, Niko trying hard not to preen, but failing. 

The afternoon bled into evening and Oliver was certain that nothing of importance was happening in that office. It wasn’t until two more men came in and headed for the office that Oliver saw his chance. Niko motioned to them to close his office door, and the loud voices quieted, as if sensitive matters were being discussed. 

Oliver spoke a few short words to Abram, and headed to the back, bypassing the office and slipping outside, where he pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. Truth be told, Oliver had never been much of a smoker, but upon coming to Russia, he had picked it up in an effort to blend in. Now, he stood against the wall of the building on a few pallets, right underneath the window of Niko’s office. The window was cracked open, allowing for all the cigar smoke to waft out, and allowing Oliver to hear snippets of the conversation.

It was hard, pieces of the conversation were muffled or muddled, and Oliver had to retreat from the window a few times as some men passed him, but ultimately he heard what he needed. He threw his cigarette to the ground, smashing it with his foot and pulled out his cell phone. 

“Anatoli,” he said when his boss picked up on the third ring. “The truck and guns are at the Moskva River port on Yuzhnoportovaya.”

Anatoli didn’t immediately respond to Oliver, instead barking orders to someone else in the room with him. After a moment he said, “I will be calling you in a few hours, once I have what is mine. Get some rest. Be ready.” Anatoli hung up.

Oliver didn’t bother going back into the building. Anatoli would send people out to find his truck and guns, and more still to grab Niko and bring him to Anatoli. Oliver looked down at his hands. 

They would shed blood tonight.

***

Felicity ran a shaky hand through her hair, smoothing down what was sure to be a rat’s nest. Her eyes fell to the Polaroid, Oliver’s bloody face glowering up at her. Felicity couldn’t help but smile a bit. Oliver hated having his picture taken. Sure, he was always game for a family photo, or a photo with her, but even then, try to take too many and you’d have a thoroughly annoyed Oliver.

“So the garage was a bust,” Thea announced as she and Laurel entered Felicity’s office, both looking crestfallen. 

“Nothing there?” Dig asked.

Laurel shook her head. “No, it was completely closed, like a garage should be, this time of night.”

“No one to hit,” Thea added.

“Do you have anything, Felicity?” Laurel asked, gently.

Felicity turned the Polaroid facedown. “I’ve been hacking the FBI database. They have a taskforce working on taking down the Bratva on this coast, but they haven’t gotten very far. I’ve been searching their records, seeing if they have anything on Volkov or his men, but nothing that points us to where their base of operations might be.” 

“There’s nothing?” Thea asked.

Felicity turned back to her computers. “Leonid Volkov is relatively new to the U.S. There’s a bunch of information about his time in Russia, not much about what he’s done so far in Star City.” 

“What about Dmitri Krupin?” Laurel spoke up. “What did you find on him?”

“Creeper with the neck tattoo?” Thea asked. “Anybody with that tattoo cannot be as smart as Volkov. He has to have some sort of tracks to follow.”

Felicity nodded, her fingers already ahead of brain. “Okay, Dmitri Krupin, born in Odintsovo, a suburb of Moscow, moved here to Star City last year...shocker, wanted for murder and drug trafficking in Monument Point…” Felicity moved closer to the screen, as if the information would change.

“Felicity?” Dig asked. 

Felicity turned to Dig. “Krupin has two offshore accounts in Liechtenstein.” 

Dig shrugged. “Don’t most Bratva have offshore accounts?”

“He’s at best an enforcer. There’s money, sure, but not this much,” Felicity said as she started on a code to hack the offshore account. If she could find the money trail…

Her phone disrupted her thinking, making her chest tighten as she took in the caller id: blocked number. She turned on the speaker phone and immediately started a trace. “Hello?”

“Yes, Ms. Smoak, if you have a moment,” Leonid Volkov’s voice came over the speaker, light and airy, as if they were planning a lunch date, “I’d like to discuss the terms of our exchange.”

“Our exchange, yes,” Felicity said, trying hard to keep her voice even. Dig, Thea and Laurel formed a half circle around her, listening intently.

“We meet in one hour,” Volkov said.

“Hour?” Felicity could feel everyone tense. She looked to the computer, to the time. “No, we still have three and a half hours.”

Volkov sighed, as though he was apologetic. “Well, unfortunately, that was before Mr. Queen took matters into his own hands.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Felicity could see Dig look down to the floor, shaking his head. “What do you mean?” Felicity asked Volkov.

“Mr. Queen put two bullets into one of my men’s backs,” Volkov answered calmly. “So I am motivated to get this done.”

“Where do you want to meet?” Felicity gritted out through her teeth. 

“There is abandoned lot down by the docks, near Hurst Avenue,” Volkov said. “You will arrive from the north. You may bring one associate.”

Felicity closed her eyes a moment. “I want assurances Oliver is still alive,” she demanded.

Volkov chuckled. “You will get those assurances, in one hour when we meet.”

“I want them now,” Felicity demanded, her voice rising. 

“Alas, Mr. Queen is not here, but I assure you, I left him in capable hands,” Volkov paused, “Albeit angry, capable hands. But I’m sure he’ll be just fine. As long as you come prepared to pay.”

“Fine,” Felicity answered.

“Oh, and let’s make it an even ten million dollars, Ms. Smoak,” Volkov said.

Felicity nearly choked. “We agreed eight. I’ll need more than an hour.”

“Well, that was before your man spilt more Bratva blood trying to leave my good company,” Volkov returned, “So, I think an even ten million will suffice, no? I’m sure Mr. Queen would not waste his time with someone who wasn’t as resourceful as him. I have every confidence you can make this happen. And please remember, Ms. Smoak, no police.” The line clicked off.

Laurel had an arm around Thea, and it was only then Felicity registered Dig’s hand on her shoulder. She leaned into it, for a moment, closing her eyes, her hands clenched on the table before her. 

“Felicity,” Dig started, but Felicity shook him off. Now was not the time for Yoda Dig. 

“Okay, the meet is in an abandoned lot down by the docks,” Felicity said, pulling up CCTV footage of the area. 

Dig sighed as he squeezed her shoulder one more time before letting go and then looking intently at the computer screen. “Not a lot of cover. It’ll be hard for us to keep out of sight.”

Felicity stood up, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. He said two people. Me and an associate. That’s it.”

Laurel crossed her arms. “Felicity, you can’t expect us to sit this out. You need backup.”

 

“But what if Volkov sees you? He’ll kill Oliver for sure,” Felicity said.

Thea shook her head. “What makes you think Volkov isn’t going to have an army of men with him? He already moved up the time table and demanding more money. He isn’t playing by any of his own rules, Felicity.”

“Thea,” Felicity began.

“No, Felicity. You need help. We’re giving you help,” Thea said taking a step towards Felicity. “We are getting my brother back. We are doing it together.” 

Felicity couldn’t help but smile at Thea’s strength. She was definitely Moira’s daughter and Oliver’s sister. The Queens were a tenacious lot. 

“Okay,” Felicity took a deep breath. “What do you suggest?” 

“I’ll call my dad, give him a heads up,” Laurel said. “I know Volkov was pretty clear about no police, but my dad can help case the perimeter.” She gave Felicity a reassuring smile and left the room to call Lance.

“Where are you with the fake wire transfer?” Dig asked. 

Felicity turned to her computer, “It’s set up on my end, and I’ve figured out the security protocols for some of the major offshore tax havens: Lichtenstein, Caymans, Luxembourg. Hopefully, wherever we have to transfer the money use similar security systems and won’t detect that there is, in fact, no money.” 

Thea stepped forward and squeezed Felicity’s arm. “It’ll work. I’m sure of it.” 

“Thanks,” Felicity replied, giving Thea a small smile. “Alright, I guess we need to suit up?” 

Both Dig and Thea looked at her quizzically. 

“Oh, you don’t think I suit up? Ever? Totally wrong,” Felicity said, rolling her eyes.

“And what does your suit look like?” Thea asked, cocking her head to the side, bemused.

“Gucci and Mac.” Felicity slid off her seat and started towards her private restroom, where she always kept an extra set of clothes and makeup. TIme to get ready.

****  
Russia, 2011

Oliver was summoned to an abandoned warehouse after just a few hours at his apartment, staring at the ceiling above his bed. He’d tried to take Anatoli’s heed to sleep, but as it was so often, it was elusive. His father, Slade, Shado, Sara, Akio, and Taiana, all entered his dreams, their deaths played out over and over again.

And knowing what Anatoli would want him to do tonight made it worse. Oliver knew what he would have to do to Niko. The island had given him the resolve, and Waller had given him the skills to do what was necessary. 

The first time Oliver had tortured someone on Anatoli’s behalf, the mob boss had been incredibly impressed, in awe at Oliver’s abilities. 

“I knew there was a side of you to be feared,” Anatoli had said to him, almost reverently, clapping Oliver on the shoulder. “You are Bratva.” 

Oliver had said nothing, staring at his bloody hands, no Shado to help him get clean. 

Six months later, after countless torture sessions, and a nickname that was accurate if annoying, Oliver didn’t see Tatsu’s horrified face each time anymore. And he almost never thought about what his mother would say. Whatever Oliver had become, at least he’d become someone who could compartmentalize with the best of them. A silver lining to the shitstorm of the last few years, he guessed. 

Oliver approached the warehouse door, muttering a quiet greeting to the Bratva guarding the door, who only nodded and allowed Oliver inside. Oliver took a deep breath and headed in, navigating the rows of storage boxes and crates to the far end of the warehouse. He heard Niko’s pleas of mercy and Anatoli’s sneers before he saw them. 

“Please, Anatoli,” Niko was saying, his panicked voice muffled only a bit by the boxes. 

“I have no time for this, Niko,” Anatoli replied. “It is up to you how hard this will be. I found the truck, and half the guns. I want to know why you would steal from me, after everything I’ve given you.” 

“I didn’t steal from you. I would not do that Anatoli, please,” Niko said, as Oliver stepped into view. Niko sat in a metal chair, wrists and ankles cuffed. He had a small cut on his cheekbone and a blossoming black eye, but other than that, he was unharmed. 

Anatoli nodded to Oliver, “Niko has decided that this will be hard.” Oliver nodded back, and shrugged off his jacket. Anatoli had been so kind as to lay out Oliver’s tools on a piece of shelving. Oliver set his jacket down, and lightly ran his fingers over his tools, knives of differing lengths and widths, pliers, scalpels, a saw, hammer and even a few arrows. Oliver was acutely aware of Niko’s eyes on him, but Oliver did not sneak a look. He didn’t need to look to know how scared Niko was right now. 

“Niko, you will tell Oliver where the rest of my guns are,” Anatoli said calmly. Anatoli held Oliver’s eyes a moment, and it occurred to him just how dirty Anatoli could get without ever needing to clean his own hands. That was true power. 

Anatoli beckoned the other Bratva members standing guard and left Oliver with Niko, alone. Oliver turned his attention away from Niko, looking intently at his tools, as if he didn’t know where to start. 

After a few moments, Niko started to shift in agitation in his chair. “I do not know where the guns are.”

Oliver did not reply back, only lifting up one particularly long knife and looking it over before carefully setting it back down.

“You were there, Oliver. We were ambushed. I told Anatoli. It was Wolanski and his men. Why would I steal from Anatoli?” Niko asked, again testing the cuffs around his wrists. 

Still, Oliver said nothing. He picked up a pair of long needle-nosed pliers, clamping them down a few times. 

“I am loyal to Anatoli. I have always been loyal to him,” Niko said, his voice wavering a bit. 

Oliver went back to the knives. He pulled an old Russian army knife from its sheath, and turned towards Niko. 

Niko lifted his head in defiance towards Oliver. “You owe me loyalty.” 

Oliver shrugged and without apology replied, “Anatoli is my Pakhan. He is owed my loyalty. You are owed nothing.” Oliver took steps forward towards Niko, knife raised. Without anymore preamble, he stabbed Niko in his left leg. 

Niko screamed, panting in pain as he strained against the cuffs. 

“Where are the guns?” Oliver asked simply, releasing his hold on the knife now embedded in Niko’s leg. 

Niko did not answer, only seethed in pain and anger, teeth clenched. 

Oliver crouched down in front of Niko, and for a moment, he was back on Lian Yu, sweating through his clothes, another poor bastard with a knife in his leg in front of him as Taiana looked on. “Niko, I am very well trained. I know what what kills, I know what cripples, and what just hurts.” 

Oliver gripped the handle of the knife and twisted, feeling the knife scrape against muscles and tendons. Niko threw his head back, screaming in pain, tears seeping out his eyes as he involuntarily tried to move his leg away from Oliver, who only pushed down on the knife to keep the leg in place. 

If Oliver was a better man, he’d tell Niko to relax, that being so tense and thrashing around like this would only cause more damage. 

But Oliver wasn’t a good man. That much, he was certain of. 

****  
Star City, 2015

Oliver drifted for a while. The ocean waves had stilled a bit, rocking the boat up and down lightly. His father laid on the other side of the raft, dead. The gun still sat in Robert’s hand, and if Oliver looked close enough, he could see bits of brain on the floor of the raft, along with a splatter of blood. 

Oliver forced his eyes elsewhere, afraid he might throw up again. He looked out, seeing Lian Yu in the distance, dark and foreboding. He could still remember the rush of relief he’d felt at seeing land, the hope of rescue building. 

How naive it’d been, to think that island would ever offer rescue. It had turned him into a weapon, forcing him to make terrible and awful decisions. It had taught him that he could only rely on himself to survive. He couldn’t rely on anyone else.

A hand grasped his. “That’s not true,” Felicity said, sitting next to Oliver, a bright orange life vest clashing terribly with her purple dress. She looked to Robert’s still body. “Must have been a hell of a day.”

Oliver nodded. “Yeah.” 

“You’re not alone,” Felicity said softly. “You know that, right?” She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. 

Oliver chuckled. “You’re not even real right now, and I’m pretty sure I’m the only one handcuffed to a chair getting the crap beat out of me.”

“And do you think I’m on the town grabbing margaritas with the girls?” Felicity said, swatting him in the shoulder. “Seriously, Oliver? You know right now I’m moving heaven and earth to get you back.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Oliver said. But he didn’t deserve it. Maybe this was recompense for everything he’d done.

“You don’t really believe that,” Felicity said, tears in her eyes. “You are loved. You are wanted, and you know that I will find you. You know what you need to do.” 

Oliver nodded, looking once more to Lian Yu. “Shengcun.”

“Survive,” Felicity nodded, squeezing his hand one last time before his head was slapped to the other side, his vision blurring. When it unblurred, he could make out Volkov’s smiling face. 

“I am so glad you are awake, Mr. Queen,” Volkov said. “How are you feeling?”

It was hard to focus after several successive hits to his head. His vision was blurry, and the movement around him made him dizzy. “I’m feeling just great,” Oliver bit out through clenched teeth. 

Volkov continued to smile as he shrugged off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “I was very disappointed to learn you did not behave yourself. You killed one of my men.” He nodded towards the man with the tattoo on his neck. “Dmitri has terrible headache.” 

Oliver smiled ruefully, “I know the feeling.” 

Volkov chuckled before beckoning to one of his men, who rolled in a cart. Through his blurry vision, Oliver could make out a few knives, a hammer, and a set of pliers among the tools. It wasn’t a big surprise what Volkov intended to do with those tools.

“You know, before Niko, I’d heard about you. The myasnik. The butcher. It was said you were precise in your cuts and slices,” Volkov said, before turning his back to Oliver, looking over the contents of the tray. Trying to look in his peripheral vision left Oliver feeling weak and dizzy, so he chose a stain on the wall in the distance and tried to focus on that instead. 

“That night, before I stabbed my own brother, killed my own brother, I told him something important. I whispered something into his ear,” Volkov said as he approached Oliver, who refused to meet Volkov’s eyes. “I promised him you would pay.” 

“Even after he betrayed Anatoli?” Oliver asked. 

Volkov grabbed the back of Oliver’s neck, forcing his head back and eyes up, a knife in his right hand. “I am not a butcher, Mr. Queen. I do not know the first thing about making the right cuts,” Volkov said softly. “But I do know what it means to be a brother. I keep my promises.” 

Reluctantly, Oliver met Volkov’s eyes. He knew what was about to happen. He allowed himself one last thought of Felicity, and his promise to her. Shengcun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr at [@kayleegee-writes](http://kayleegee-writes.tumblr.com/)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to [@hotcookinmama](http://hotcookinmama.tumblr.com/) for being the best beta around, and [@cherchersketch](http://cherchersketch.tumblr.com/) for the amazing artwork!

[](http://imgur.com/5B0V6JD)  


Star City, 2015

Lance sighed as he sat down heavily in his office chair. So far, the patrols he’d sent towards 7th and Weller hadn’t picked up any suspicious activity. He’d also put a call into the organized crime division, trying to get a beat on this Volkov character. There’d been very little, a repeat of what Felicity had been able to find on him. 

All around, Lance was just frustrated. Frustrated with a lack of intel, a lack of being able to do anything, but mostly, frustrated with Queen. 

Losing Sara had been the beginning of a very dark period in Lance’s life. He’d lost his wife, nearly lost Laurel, and almost his life. He had clawed out of a very dark, deep hole, and he’d nearly lost it all when Queen had come back from the dead. 

It had been a long, long road to forgiving Queen for his part in Sara’s six years away, and in truth, forgiveness had been so much easier after Sara returned to Starling City. 

But after Oliver kept her second death from him, the revelation that he was the Arrow was the last straw. It was hard not to think of Queen as the common denominator in everything that had gone wrong in Starling, in his life, in Laurel’s, in Sara’s. 

Add to that the fact that Lance had turned a blind eye to everything Queen had done, as himself and as the Arrow. He’d been complicit in the vigilantism, something Lance had long thought was dangerous and wrong. 

And now here Lance sat, trying to wrack his brain on how he could help save Queen from a Bratva mob boss… a Bratva mob boss Queen had a past with, because Queen had been apart of the freaking Bratva. Of all the ways Queen had changed, at least a few things stayed the same: he still had a hell of a destructive streak. 

Lance’s phone rang, shaking him from his thoughts. Glancing at the phone, he smiled. “Hey, baby,” he answered.

“Hey, Dad,” Laurel returned. She sounded weary.

“Any good news?” Lance asked, doubtful.

Laurel sighed. “No. We’ve got nothing, and Volkov has moved up his timetable. We have to meet him in an hour, down by the docks.”

“Alright, I’ll get ESU and…” Lance began before Laurel cut him off. 

“No, no, Dad, we can’t get help from the police. Volkov was very clear. He sees police, he kills Oliver,” Laurel said. “But, I was hoping you could help me case the perimeter, look for how many men Volkov will be hiding.” 

Lance shook his head, “Laurel, I don’t like this.”

“We don’t either, Dad, but we’re putting a plan together,” Laurel answered. “Trust us.”

Lance tried not to scoff at how easily Laurel asked for trust working outside the law. “Fine. Where are we meeting?”

 

“I’ll text you the location,” Laurel said. “And Dad? Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be looking for the ‘Dad of the Year’ coffee mug anytime.”

****

The night was chilly, Thea thought. She flexed her gloved hands in an effort to keep her hands warm, not because she was restless or nervous about what was about to happen, she told herself. 

“You’re practically vibrating,” Laurel said next to her. They crouched on an overpass commanding a view of an abandoned lot. Felicity and Dig were now standing in that lot near their car. 

“Some Russian whackjob has my brother, doing God knows what to him. I want this over, and Oliver back,” Thea replied. 

“Stay focused,” Dig’s voice came over the comm. “Don’t worry about Oliver right now. There will be time for that later.” 

“Right,” Thea nodded, taking a deep breath. 

In the distance, Felicity shifted her weight from one foot to the other, restless as they waited. “That’s easy for you to say,” Felicity said. “Have any of you ever been in a ransom exchange before? Is there an instructional manual I should have read?” 

“You’re going to be fine, Felicity,” Dig answered, squeezing her shoulder. 

Laurel chimed in, “And we’ll get Oliver back.” 

“Showtime, folks,” Lance’s voice came over. “Looks like a town car and van.” 

Car lights flashed over Dig and Felicity, as the town car and a van pulled in. Thea took note of the license plates, her brow furrowing as the van backed in towards Dig and Felicity.

“Why is the van backing in?” Laurel wondered aloud before shaking her head. “I don’t like that.” 

Thea’s grip on her bow tightened. “I don’t either. Dig?” 

“Stick to the plan,” Dig replied. 

The town car’s doors opened, and Leonid Volkov stepped out, along with one of his thugs. Jeez, Thea thought Dig’s arms were huge. This guy, though. Thea couldn’t tell if they were armed, but it was a good bet.

“Ms. Smoak, so good of you to come,” Volkov said brightly. “And who is your associate?”

“Of no concern to you,” Dig answered back. Even from this distance, Thea could see the shade Dig was throwing Volkov. 

Volkov was silent a moment, before laughing gently, “You must be John Diggle. My men did their research.” 

“Where’s Oliver?” Felicity demanded, not bothering to acknowledge what Volkov had said. 

“In the van,” Volkov tipped his head towards his thug, who walked over to the van doors and threw them open. From where Thea and Laurel stood on the overpass, they couldn’t see into the van. 

“Is he okay?” Thea whispered.

“Is this a joke?” Felicity asked, her voice pitching higher.

“What’s going on?” Laurel asked, hands clenched.

Thea saw Dig shake his head in disgust. “Take the sack off his head if you want us to believe that’s Oliver.” 

“Give me my money, and I will give you Oliver.” Volkov said calmly.

Thea could hear Felicity’s short, fuming breaths over the comm. She saw Felicity give over her tablet she’d been holding. “I’ll need your bank account number,” Felicity gritted out. 

“Absolutely,” Volkov replied, “Dmitri?” His thug approached Felicity, grabbing the tablet and handing it over to Volkov, who tapped in his bank account number and tossed the tablet back. Dig had to reach out and grab it before it hit the ground. He gave it back to Felicity as it beeped a notification.

“There,” Felicity spit out, “ten million dollars has just been transferred into your account. Now let Oliver go.” 

“You are a very smart girl, Ms. Smoak. I’ve heard great things about you, including your abilities with computers. So we will wait, while my banker confirms the transaction. He’s on standby to check the account,” Volkov smiled, waving his cell phone in his hand. 

“Guys…” Thea said. This wasn’t good. There was no way the fake wire transfer would work now. It was supposed to buy them time. 

“Well, while you’re waiting, why don’t we load Oliver into our car? You know, save you some time?” Felicity cautiously asked. 

Volkov shook his head, “No, I think he is fine where he is.” 

“I don’t like where this is headed,” Laurel said before squeezing Thea’s shoulder.

Thea nodded and pulled a grappling arrow out of her quiver, readying it and her bow. She had a sinking feeling this situation was about to deteriorate, and fast. 

Over the comm, Thea heard Volkov’s phone ring. This was it. Volkov answered, exchanging a few words in Russian with his banker before hanging up.

“Ms. Smoak, there seems to be a problem with your wire transfer,” Volkov said slowly, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. I guess you value Mr. Queen’s life as much as I do… not at all.” He looked to Dmitri, who slammed the van doors shut, and pulled a gun. Dig pulled his gun, as he shoved Felicity behind him. 

Thea was done listening. She aimed her arrow, letting it fly into the concrete, just behind Volkov’s car. Using her arrow to skim the rope, she flew down, landing on two feet before nocking a new arrow, aiming at Volkov and hitting him in the shoulder. 

Dmitri took a shot at Dig as Dig rushed Felicity around the back of their car.Dmitri turned towards Thea and took a shot at her before rounding behind the van for cover. Volkov ran after him, yelling something in Russian and beating on the side of the van. The back door to the van opened again, and two men rushed out, guns cocked. 

Laurel, having followed on the grappling hook’s line down, ran towards one of the men, tonfa in hand. 

“Captain Lance?” Thea heard Dig yell over the comms. 

“I’m coming,” Lance replied, and Thea ran towards the car Dig and Felicity were using to take cover, aiming an arrow at one of Volkov’s men, narrowly missing. She crouched down next to Dig and Felicity.

“When Lance gets here, get her in the car,” Dig ordered Thea, before standing up and emptying his clip, hitting one of the men in the arm as Laurel made quick work of the other with a well-timed blow to the head. More shots came from around the van, probably from the Dmitri guy. 

“Got it,” Thea said. In the distance she could see more car lights, hopefully Lance’s.

“Get Oliver,” Felicity pleaded to Dig, who gave her a tight nod before running from their car to Volkov’s town car, taking cover, where Laurel had done the same. 

Captain Lance came tearing in, pulling his car parallel to where Thea and Felicity were crouched. Thea threw open the passenger door, and all but shoved Felicity into the car, yelling to Captain Lance, “Go! Go!” He didn’t need to be told twice. Lance tore out of the lot, hurtling Felicity towards safety.

Thea cautiously peered over the car to assess the situation as more gunshots rang out between the van and Dig. She could see Dmitri advancing on Laurel and Dig’s position. She chose a flashbang arrow out of her quiver, aiming it at the van’s back doors. 

The flashbang temporarily set Dmitri back, stumbling into the back of the van, disorientated. Thea lept over the car’s hood, converging with Laurel and Dig towards the van’s back doors. Thea could barely make out the outline of her brother, a bag over his head laying on the floor of the van. Standing over him was Volkov, shoulder bleeding, but gun cocked and ready. Thea nocked an arrow, ready to let it loose, this time into Volkov’s heart, where Dig had aimed as well. Laurel gripped her tonfa, ready to advance. Volkov, for his part, aimed his gun at Oliver’s head. 

“Do not move,” Volkov shouted, voice echoing through the van. 

“Give us Oliver, and we’ll let you go,” Dig answered back. 

Volkov’s leering eyes skimmed over Thea and Laurel. “I knew Queen’s woman would not keep her end of the bargain. Lucky for me, I made other arrangements.” 

From nowhere, three motorcycles came racing through, directly towards Dig, Thea, and Laurel. Dig and Thea aimed at the motorcycles, missing two of them, but shooting one of them in the tire. The motorcycle fell into a controlled slide towards Dig and Thea, forcing them to get out of the way.

A second motorcycle barrelled straight towards Laurel, who with her tonfa delivered a well-placed blow to the driver’s torso, causing him to fly back off his motorcycle, landing with a groan on the pavement while the motorcycle slid into Volkov’s car...and Dig. 

Dig lost his footing, falling to the pavement, the wind knocked out of his lungs. 

“Dig!” Thea called, just as Laurel yelled, “Speedy!” There was a loud bang, and Thea pitched forward, her arm suddenly hot and painful. She’d been shot. Thea hit the ground, shocked at the pain. She blindly reached for her bow, but her hand was squashed by a hand. Dmitri’s hand. He smiled down at her, before kicking her in the head.

Thea lost a few moments, her head spinning. Sounds around her became distant, echoing in her ears. She tried to lift her head to see what was happening. Thea tried to look to Dig and Laurel, but all she could hear was Laurel’s struggle. Against who, she didn’t know. 

Thea’s vision cleared as she watched Volkov jump down from the van, grabbing Laurel’s tonfa from the ground. Thea’s eyes found Laurel, slumped on the ground, trying to catch her breath. Dig, was also trying to catch his breath, but failed miserably when Volkov used the tonfa to deliver an awful hit to his head. 

“Take him,” Volkov yelled, walking back to the van. Dmitri and another thug, probably the third motorcyclist, grabbed Dig at the armpits, dragging him to the back of the van. 

Oh hell, no, Thea thought. With all her strength, she forced herself up, grabbing her bow, thankful she could still pull the bowstring. She groaned as she used her injured arm to blindly grab at an arrow, aiming at the men who had Dig. 

The arrow went wide, and she tried again, while Laurel found her footing, rushing over to Dig’s gun lying on the ground. Thea felt like she was moving through sludge, slow, too slow to help Dig. 

As soon as the men had Dig in the van, there were shouts in Russian, and the van streaked out of the lot. Thea tried to aim for the tires, but still disoriented, her shots were completely off. Laurel fired off a few rounds from Dig’s gun, aiming for the tires, but too soon, the van was out of the lot, hurtling towards downtown. 

Thea dropped her bow as Laurel dropped the gun, both breathing heavily. 

“Are you okay?” Laurel asked Thea, a concerned look as she reached out for Thea’s injured arm. 

Thea looked down at her bleeding arm, wincing before nodding to Laurel. “I think so.”

“We need to get back, figure out what to do next,” Laurel said, looking out towards where the van had exited. 

Thea sighed, “I just really wish our plans would work out for once, you know?” 

****  
The mood was somber in Lair 2.0, everyone disappointed with their failure to rescue Oliver and losing Dig in the process. 

Laurel surveyed her surroundings. Her father was on the far side of the lair, near the entrance talking quietly to his precinct, checking in. 

Thea sat, arm bandaged, silent and glowering next to Laurel. Across from them sat Felicity, who was nearly in tears as she recounted the night’s events to Lyla, whose eyebrows furrowed deeper by the minute. 

Lyla had already been at the Lair when they’d returned. Laurel had been impressed that when John hadn’t been among them, she hadn’t questioned and jumped to Thea’s aid. It was only after she’d helped Felicity’s shaking hands patch up Thea that she’d asked quietly and calmly for someone to explain what had happened. 

“So what do we do now?” Thea asked after Felicity finished catching up Lyla. 

Lyla took out a flash drive. “An old friend at A.R.G.U.S. was able to give me information on the Volkov’s financials as well as some of his lieutenants.”

“Anything that can help us?” Lance asked, stepping up next to Laurel. 

“She was only willing to give me raw data...no analysis,” Lyla grimaced, looking down. “Bratva is low priority for A.R.G.U.S., and priority for helping me? Even lower.” 

“Thank you, Lyla. This helps,” Felicity said, though there was no real conviction in her voice.

Lyla reached out and hugged Felicity. “We will get them both back. Safe.” 

“Okay, so let’s upload the information, and each one of us take a computer,” Laurel said, shrugging off her leather jacket and gloves. Lyla nodded, and gently ushered Felicity over to a computer terminal to get started. Within moments, several computers were up and running, numbers filling the scrolling screens. 

Thea sighed and sat down next to Laurel, while Lance cocked his head. “You know how to read all this?” He asked Thea, sitting down across from them, looking at his own computer. 

“I’m a former trust-fund baby and business owner, so yeah, I do have some rudimentary understanding of adding and subtracting,” Thea bit out, rolling her eyes back to her screen, making Laurel bite back a laugh as her father had the decency to look chastised.

The five of them worked diligently, combing through financial records, looking for patterns and suspicious purchases, anything that could lead to a possible location for the Star City Bratva. Laurel marveled at the sheer amount of information A.R.G.U.S. had on the Bratva, but with no plans to act on it. 

It was Thea who broke first, thumping her fists in frustration on the table, interrupting everyone’s focus. “This is pointless!” Thea grit out. She stood up, taking a few steps from her computer, massaging her temples. 

“Why don’t you take a break for a few minutes, get some fresh air?” Laurel suggested.

“I’ll go put on a fresh pot of coffee,” Lance agreed, leaving to his task. 

Thea stalked out, and Laurel debated a moment on whether to follow or not, before Felicity’s fist pump in the air caught her eye.

“Got it!” Felicity yelled. 

Lyla looked towards Felicity’s screen. “What am I looking at?”

 

“Dmitri Krupin,” Felicity smiled. “I was looking into him earlier, before we got sidetracked on rescue attempt number one.”

“Who is he?” Lyla asked. 

“One of Volkov’s men,” Laurel answered. “Felicity, what did you find?” 

Felicity turned in her seat to face Laurel and Lyla, looking especially proud of herself. “Krupin has way more money than any common enforcer should. So, with these Bratva financials, I was able to cross reference and track where he was getting his money. Krupin reports to Volkov, so most of his money should come from him, right?”

“It doesn’t?” Laurel asked.

“It seems Mr. Krupin has another master,” Felicity said turning back to her computer screen. “He’s gotten large amounts of money from a company called Vakha, which has ties to the Chechen mafia. Krupin is probably selling Bratva intel to the Chechens.” 

“Now the Chechen mafia is involved?” Lance asked as he approached, a coffee pot and several mugs in his hands. 

Lyla circled back to her computer. “Hold on, I saw that same name in Volkov’s early financials.” She tapped a few keys on the computer. “Yeah, he got some money from them, too.” 

Laurel frowned. “So Volkov and Krupin are both selling secrets to the Chechen mafia? How does this help us?” 

“Because the money traces back to Dudin, the head of the Chechen mafia. Guess where he’s based? Moscow,” Felicity said. 

“Again, how does that help us?” Laurel asked. 

“The money is laundered, heavily through shell corporations. This is prime intel that we can use as leverage,” Felicity said, standing up and grabbing her tablet. 

Lyla shook her head. “Maybe, but this is personal for Volkov. I don’t know that he’ll be scared of this intel getting out.” 

Felicity stood up, ignoring Lyla. “I need something up in my office. I’ll be right back.” 

Felicity ignored the calls of her name, nearly running into Thea coming back down the stairs. 

“What happened?” Thea asked, bewildered.

Laurel exchanged looks with Lyla and Lance before shrugging. “We’re not sure, but there’s coffee.” 

Thea sighed. “Well, at least the night’s not been a total waste.” 

****

Russia, 2011

“I always suspected Niko had no spine, but this is just sad,” Anatoli said a mere hour later, as Oliver wiped his hands on an old towel, which didn’t do much to get the blood off his hands. There was always too much blood. 

“The guns that are missing were sold to Baburin. Niko was planning on selling the rest to Wolanski,” Oliver said, a bit weary. 

“Just Niko?” Anatoli asked.

Oliver thought back to his questioning. He’d asked NIko directly if Leonid, his brother, had a hand in his betrayal of Anatoli. It’d been Niko’s face, a mix of shame and terror at the mere mention of Leonid. Niko had pleaded with Oliver to leave Leonid out of the matter. Clearly, Leonid had no idea what Niko was doing. Oliver nodded. “I do not think Leonid knows anything.”

“Leonid is on his way. You will confirm he knew nothing of his brother’s folly,” Anatoli replied. “Niko still breathes?” 

“Yes,” Oliver answered, though Niko was probably bleeding internally at this point. Oliver had beat him, concentrated on his torso, and then had made some cuts with a few knives. Niko had suffered, terribly for his betrayal. 

Anatoli and Oliver stood outside the warehouse, waiting for Leonid. Men had already been dispatched to get the rest of the guns from the port where Niko had hidden them, and they were being moved to a secure location. More men were sent to root out Niko’s supporters, those who knew what he was doing. They would meet their end with bullets to the head. 

Anatoli kept up the conversation, Oliver nodding or grunting in assent when there was a pause, but mostly he kept quiet. His hands were still sticky with blood, but when he’d asked to leave, Anatoli had waved him off. “I’ll need your skills yet, I think.” Oliver bit back a bit of bile. Amanda Waller would be so proud.

A car pulled up to Anatoli and Oliver, a few of Anatoli’s men filling out. They rounded the back of the car and opened the trunk, pulling out, a man, late thirties. He wore old jeans and shirt, a faux leather jacket over both. He had Niko’s features along with an impressive beard. 

“Leonid,” Anatoli said levelly. “We have problem. A big problem.” 

“Anatoli? What is the meaning of this?” Leonid asked, looking bewildered.

Anatoli’s face darkened. “The meaning of this is your brother decided to be an upstart and steal guns from me.”

Leonid shook his head. “Niko is impulsive, but he would not do that.’

“He has admitted it, Leonid,” Anatoli said, glancing at Oliver, who nodded in assent, his hands clasped behind his back. 

“No, no, he would not do that,” Leonid said, his own hands clenched by his side. 

Anatoli shook his head. “Right now, what I need to know is if you knew what he was planning.” Anatoli looked to Oliver, who led the way into the warehouse, where he’d left Niko. Leonid was pulled along by two Bratva, cursing and pleading as he went.

Oliver stood near his tools, to the side of Niko, who was barely conscious, the knife still in his leg. Anatoli stopped in the doorway, a grim smile of satisfaction etched on his face as he took in Niko’s battered form. 

“Niko!” Leonid yelled, nearly shoving Anatoli out of the way to get to his brother. Anatoli’s men moved to hold him back, but Anatoli waved them off. Leonid took his brother’s head between his two hands, wiping blood from his eyes and cheek, tapping him lightly. “Niko, Niko!” 

Niko opened his eyes a bit, breathing out Leonid’s name, a small smile sliding across his face. Oliver looked away a moment, at his tools he’d used to leave Niko in this state. Oliver looked back at Niko when he heard Niko trying to speak, but instead could only wheeze, a bit of blood on his lips. Oliver’s stomach dropped at his silent realization: one of his knives had nicked a lung. Niko was beginning to drown, losing air, a feeling Oliver was uniquely familiar with. 

“What have you done?” Leonid said, turning to Oliver. 

Anatoli stepped in front of Oliver. “Leonid, that is a question for your brother.” 

Leonid looked back to Niko, whose chest was heaving in distress. “He needs a hospital.” 

“He is paying for what he took from me,” Anatoli replied. “He will get no hospital.” 

“Niko,” Leonid said as he knelt in front of his brother. “Niko, tell Anatoli the truth. This was not you. You did not steal the guns.” 

“He admitted to it,” Anatoli said, tipping his head towards Oliver. “Oliver can be very persuasive.” 

“Niko, did you steal the guns?” Leonid asked his brother gently. 

Niko, with what strength he had left, nodded. “Brother,” he whispered, but couldn’t continue.

Anatoli took a few steps towards Leonid. “You did not know what he was planning?”

Through his tears, Leonid shook his head, “Why Niko? Why would you do this?” 

Anatoli exchanged looks with Oliver. It was clear he had no idea what Niko was planning. “Leonid,” Anatoli said, “You need to finish this.”

Leonid looked up at Anatoli. “What?”

A dark look took over Anatoli’s face. “Niko betrayed the Bratva, the brotherhood. That betrayal must be paid in blood.” 

Leonid stood up. “You are asking me to kill my own brother?”

Anatoli motioned to the other men in the room. “We are your brothers. Brothers who have not betrayed you. Prove your loyalty to the brotherhood.”

“I can’t do it, not my brother. Please, Anatoli,” Leonid pleaded, raking a shaking hand through his hair.

“Then you will both die,” Anatoli said, beckoning two of his men to force Leonid to his knees. “Oliver, two bullets in their heads will suffice. No need to draw this out any further.”

Dutifully, Oliver nodded, holding out his hand to one of the men, Peter, who handed Oliver his gun. Oliver took the safety off, walking over to Leonid, pressing the barrel of the gun to his head.

“No! No!” Leonid cried out as he ducked his head. “I will do it!” 

“You will prove your loyalty?” Anatoli asked.

“Yes,” Leonid sobbed. Anatoli nodded to Oliver who moved away, and the two men flanking Leonid allowed him to crawl over to his brother. With shaking hands, Leonid looked to the knife in Niko’s leg. He grabbed the hilt and pulled it out of his brother’s leg. 

Niko whimpered. Leonid placed one hand on the back of Niko’s neck, pulling him as close to his shoulder as Niko’s handcuffed hands would allow. Leonid whispered something softly into Niko’s ear, and then, in one swift motion, stabbed his brother in the diaphragm, the knife pointed upward, hitting the heart. Niko’s body bucked, but Leonid held him. 

It was silent, as everyone in the room watched Leonid and Niko. Oliver made himself watch Niko die, fully aware that while Leonid had given the final blow, it was Oliver himself who’d killed Niko. 

And for what? Money, guns. Anatoli’s honor? What was the point of all of this? 

Anatoli approached Leonid, holding his dead brother in his arms. “I will remember your loyalty, Leonid, that you did what was necessary.” 

Anatoli beckoned to Oliver, out of the warehouse. With one last look at the two brothers, he followed Anatoli back outside. 

“You did good work, Oliver,” Anatoli said, lighting a cigarette for himself. “Many will think twice before crossing the brotherhood.”

Oliver nodded absently. “Are you worried about Leonid? Will he retaliate?” 

Anatoli shook his head. “No, Leonid will not seek to retaliate. Besides, I think I may have a business venture that will take him away from Moscow. Put some distance between him and this unfortunate business.” 

“Where?” Oliver asked.

“No matter to you, Oliver. You have bigger concerns,” Anatoli, a wide smile crossing his face. “You will take Niko’s place. You will be a Captain. You have earned this.” Anatoli stuck his hand out.

Oliver grasped the outstretched hand with his own, bloodstained. He fleetingly wondered if he’d ever be rid of the blood. 

Not likely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr [@kayleegee-writes](http://kayleegee-writes.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to [@hotcookinmama](http://hotcookinmama.tumblr.com/) for being the best beta around, and [@cherchersketch](http://cherchersketch.tumblr.com/) for the amazing artwork!

[](http://imgur.com/5B0V6JD)  


Star City, 2015

As he opened his eyes and got his bearings, all Dig could see was four gray walls. Wherever he was, it stank. It smelled like meat, and there was a mustiness to it that was almost nauseating. Looking around, Dig realized he was in an old walk-in freezer.  
He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious. His watch was gone, as was his cell phone, probably tossed out on the street somewhere. 

Dig took a few moments to go over what had happened in the abandoned lot. He gingerly touched his forehead, and his fingers came away sticky and wet. Dig sighed, trying to think what the ladies of Team Arrow (God, did he hate that name) would do. He sighed even deeper when he thought of what Lyla would say when she heard he’d been kidnapped. He had no doubt that they were coming for him, and Oliver, wherever he was, and a small part of Dig thought maybe he should just sit back, regain strength and sit tight.

But that wouldn’t do for Dig. He got up, and started going over every inch of the walls, looking for any type of weakness. He looked for any loose wiring or screw...anything. He banged his fist against the wall in frustration. There was nothing there. 

Stop it, he told himself. They knew going into the exchange the chances of Volkov playing fair were slim to none, and clearly Volkov had planned for them to double cross him as well. 

Dig sat down and closed his eyes for a bit, breathing in and out his mouth. He tried clearing his head, preparing himself for whatever was to come. He tried remembering how many men Volkov had surprised him with, what they’d looked like, their abilities.

Long minutes passed before Dig heard the lock on the door, a jangling of chains, and harsh Russian. He stood up, back to the wall, ready to make a move, if he could. 

The door opened swiftly, and Dig was greeted with a pistol aimed directly at his face. Dig raised his hands in front of him as one of the burly Russians stepped into the freezer, with another, also bearing a gun came in right after. Behind them, came two more Russians with a half-conscious Oliver between them, being nearly dragged along. 

“Oliver!” Dig said, instinctively taking a step forward before being stopped by the guns pointed down his nose.   
Neither Dig nor Felicity had been able to get a good look at Oliver in the back of the van. It’d been poorly lit, and very easily could have been a decoy. Now, Dig got a very good look at Oliver.

Oliver looked...well, he looked like crap. His left eye was almost swollen shut, and he was hunched over himself, like standing up straight would be too painful. There was also the matter of the knife sticking out of his left thigh.

“Mr. Diggle,” Volkov said genially, stepping into the freezer. 

“Volkov,” Dig returned as the two Russians nearly carrying Oliver set him down without care at Dig’s feet. “We had a deal.”

“That you and your friends voided when you tried to double cross me. So, circumstances have changed,” Volkov shrugged. “I understand Mr. Queen was your best man at your wedding?” 

Dig nodded but said nothing.

“That is big honor, yes? Given to a good friend...a brother?” Volkov asked. He smoothed his tie and jacket, looking down to make sure everything was in place. 

“Your point?” Dig asked, trying very hard not to roll his eyes at Volkov’s self importance.

“I got married two years ago. Happiest day of my life,” Volkov replied, showing off his wedding ring. “But there was one person missing. My brother, Niko. My best friend.” Volkov’s genial smile melted away into something sinister. “The last time I saw Niko? He was in my arms. Bleeding to death. Dying, because some American blyad, the myasnik, had tortured him nearly to death.” Volkov swiftly kicked Oliver’s leg, the one with the knife in it, who could not bite back a yell of pain. Dig nearly launched himself forward but was stopped again by the guns.

Volkov smiled, watching Oliver take gasping breaths, clenched eyes. The smile turned icy and distant, as if Volkov was somewhere else. “I had to be the one to finish it. I took the knife out of Niko’s leg, and I ended it. And for what? Guns and money.” 

“I was thankful for one thing,” Volkov said, turning to Dig. “That, in the end, I was there. I gave my brother comfort in his final moments.” 

Dig looked down, thinking of Andy before meeting Volkov’s eyes. “You’re not the only one who has lost loved ones.”

“Nor will I be the last,” Volkov said, before nodding to his men who took Dig by the arms, forcing him to his knees. Volkov moved towards Oliver, crouching down.

“No,” Dig began to struggle, before feeling the barrel of a gun at the base of his neck. “Don’t do this, Volkov!” 

Volkov smiled smugly at Dig, ready to take a hold on the knife in Oliver’s leg, but was stopped when the door to the defunct freezer swung open. 

“Volkov,” the thug who opened the door called to him. “You have a phone call...from Moscow.” 

Volkov stilled his hand, “Who from Moscow?” 

“Petrov,” the thug replied. “Knyasev is moving on Dudin.” 

Dig forced himself not to react at the mention of Anatoli, although he did allow himself an easy breath as Volkov stood up, and crossed to the door. 

“A reprieve, it seems,” Volkov chuckled. The thugs released Diggle, shoving him to the floor. “Maybe when we return you’ll have had the guts to show Mr. Queen mercy, like I did for my brother.” 

Dig sneered at that, while Volkov looked reflective for a moment. “Actually, Mr. Diggle, I will make deal. You kill Mr. Queen, I will let you go. How does that sound? We’ll leave you to think on that.” 

He jerked his head back to his muscle, who began to walk out, guns still trained on Dig. They all backed out, but it was Volkov who was last, waving as the door shut.

Oliver slowly raised his head to look at Dig, and Dig’s stomach couldn’t help but twinge in concern as he noticed Oliver’s shallow breaths, and the growing red stain around the knife in his leg.

“Hi,” was all Oliver offered, looking mildly surprised. 

“Hey,” Dig replied as he sat down heavily next to Oliver, eyeing the knife.

Oliver shifted slightly, groaning in pain. “I gotta say, John, I wasn’t expecting you.” 

“Were you expecting anybody?” John asked. Oliver’s eyes flickered sharply towards Dig, and Dig felt a bit of satisfaction at the obvious discomfort he’d caused. “I’m sure you were figuring out a plan to get out of this all by yourself.” 

Oliver kept his face passive, ignoring the slight. “Was getting locked in here with me part of your plan?” There was a slight smirk on his face. 

Dig chuckled, rolling his eyes. He had to admit to himself, he did miss sassy Oliver. “Just sit tight. I’m sure the cavalry is on its way.” 

“Calvary?” Oliver inquired.

Dig nodded. “Four pissed off women and one middle-aged man with a heart condition.” 

***

Oliver’s phone sat on her desk in her office, just where she’d left it. Felicity had all but sprinted to her office, probably an odd sight for the security cameras, but whatever. 

Felicity set down her tablet and grabbed the phone, hitting redial.

“Hello?” The once jovial voice was dour and clipped.

“Anatoli, it’s me, again. Felicity Smoak,” Felicity said, trying to sound as sweet as she could. 

“I told you I cannot help you,” Anatoli replied. 

“I know, I know! Listen, please, Anatoli,” Felicity pleaded. 

Anatoli sighed. “You have three minutes.” 

Felicity took a deep breath. “The Chechen mafia, you guys aren’t exactly BFF’s, right?” 

“If you mean I would like to burn their operation down to the ground, then no, we are not BFF’s,” Anatoli replied.

“So, what if I could get you the names of the businesses they use to launder their money and pay off their informants?” Felicity said, tapping her fingers on her desk.

“Ms. Smoak, are you offering me a favor in exchange for a favor?” Anatoli asked.

“Yes. I give you the information, and you help me get Oliver back from Volkov,” Felicity said.

“I cannot give up Star City Bratva to you, even for Oliver, even for your information,” Anatoli answered back. 

Felicity nearly screamed in frustration. She was so close. So close. “Then I’ll owe you one, Anatoli.” 

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Ms. Smoak, I am not a man to double cross, and I will not accept empty promises.” 

Felicity shook her head. “This is not an empty promise, Anatoli, I will give you the information I have on the Chechens, and I will still owe you one, after you help me get Oliver back.”

“Oliver would not like this,” Anatoli commented. “Even if it is to save his life.” 

“Oliver doesn’t need to know,” Felicity replied, blinking back tears. “Anatoli, I will do whatever, whatever it takes to bring him home.” 

Anatoli muttered something in Russian before replying in English, “Alright, Felicity, send me what you have.”

“Thank you, Anatoli, thank you, I could kiss you!” Felicity said, and without a second thought, sent the information. “You’ll have it in a few minutes.” 

“Alright, Star City Bratva has been using an old meat factory as a base of operations. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll have numbers for you as to who is there right now,” Anatoli answered back. “There are men there that will forsake Volkov for me.”

“How can you be sure?” Felicity asked.

“I am very, very, very, rich. There is nothing I cannot buy, men included.” Anatoli barked out a laugh. “I will get you the information. In the meantime, have a shot of vodka, or maybe two. You sound a bit on edge.” 

“Thank you, Anatoli,” Felicity said as emphatically as she could. 

Anatoli seemed to understand, ending his call with a simple word, “Prochnost.” 

****

“Could you not do that?” Oliver bit out through clenched teeth, as Dig touched his injured leg.

Dig rolled his eyes. “Sure, I’ll just let you continue to bleed.” 

Oliver looked down at the knife still in his leg. If he kept very still, he could almost forget it was there. “It’s not bleeding that bad.” 

“The knife didn’t hit an artery, obviously, you’d be dead by now if it had. There could be muscle damage though,” Dig said. He sighed, taking off his jacket. “We need to take the knife out.” Dig began to unbutton his shirt.

“I feel like that’s gonna hurt even more than actually having a knife in my leg,” Oliver said. 

Dig shrugged. “Probably.” He was left in his undershirt. “Alright, on three.” Dig laid one hand on Oliver’s knee to stabilize his leg and then gripped the handle of the knife.

Oliver tried hard to relax, to make it easier for the knife to come out, but in his defense, there was a knife in his leg. 

“One, two,” Dig said and pulled as gently as he could.

Oliver let out a strangled scream, his leg on fire. Dig pressed his shirt onto the wound to stem the bleeding, making Oliver groan. “You said on three.” 

Dig smirked. “I lied.” He lifted his shirt a bit, to get a look at the wound before pressing down again. Oliver clenched his eyes closed, focused on getting his breathing under control. Dig wound the shirt sleeves around Oliver’s leg, tying a knot. He sat back against the wall of the freezer next to Oliver and wiped the blood of the knife on his jeans. He turned his head towards Oliver. “You think you’re gonna live?” 

Oliver shrugged. “Well, a knife to the leg isn’t as bad as a sword to the stomach, so yeah, I think so.” 

Dig shook his head, turning his attention back to the freezer door. Oliver kept his eyes closed for a few moments, trying to shore up some strength. He was going to have to get up soon, help Dig get out of here. 

“So, I’m pretty sure what blyad means, not an endearment, but what does myasnik mean?” Dig asked.

Oliver sighed. “You really think now is a good time for a lesson in Russian?” 

“Are you particularly busy right now?” Dig shrugged. 

Oliver was silent a moment. He’d worked so hard to move past the monster he’d become during the five years he was away, and he had hoped that, finally, the past would stay buried. It hadn’t.

“Myasnik was the a nickname I earned working for Anatoli,” Oliver said quietly. “It means butcher.” 

Dig nodded. “I can guess how you earned that nickname…”

“I tortured people, killed people,” Oliver said. “Cut and sliced into them just like Amanda Waller taught me.”

“Including Leonid’s brother,” Dig added. 

“Niko stole guns from Anatoli. I tortured the information out of him. I beat him, cut him, and stabbed him in the leg with a knife,” Oliver said, closing his eyes in shame. “I put a gun against Leonid’s head when he wouldn’t kill Niko in a show of loyalty to Anatoli. No hesitation, I would have pulled the trigger, but in the end, Leonid killed his brother to prove to Anatoli he was loyal to the brotherhood. And I helped.” 

“You were following orders,” Dig said levelly, but Oliver shook his head.

“Doesn’t make it right. It was just a part of a long line of bad decisions,” Oliver said. 

Dig looked to Oliver. “That’s not who you are anymore.” 

Oliver shrugged. “Didn’t stop me from kidnapping Lyla.”

“Yeah, that was a pretty terrible call,” Dig replied, looking away.

“It was an easy call to make, taking her,” Oliver confessed, watching Dig carefully. Dig didn’t react except to clench the knife he held tighter. “Last year, I didn’t think I’d survive the League of Assassins. I didn’t think I’d have to face the consequences of what I did as Al Sah-him.”

“Because you were planning on dying on that plane?” Dig asked.

Oliver nodded. “I thought that was a pretty fair payment for everything I’d done.” 

“And now?” Dig met Oliver’s eyes.

“Now, I have something...someone to live for,” Oliver replied. “I am sorry for what I put you, and Lyla, through…” Oliver sighed. “And I guess I should apologize that you’re locked in an old walk-in freezer with me.” 

Dig set the knife down in between him and Oliver. “Felicity wanted to lock us in a room to get us to talk.” 

Oliver snorted. “This probably was not what she had in mind.” 

“No,” Dig said drily, “None of us expected you to get kidnapped by a Bratva guy you pissed off years ago. Because you refuse to be honest with us and tell us what happened to you.” 

“Those five years, what I saw, what I did...in Russia I was at my worst. How could I be the boyfriend, the brother, the friend that I’m supposed to be if you knew it all? Everything that happened? You wouldn’t want to know me,” Oliver answered. 

Dig shook his head. “Oliver, I have seen you at your worst. When you took my wife. When you threatened her life.”

“Yeah,” Oliver said, “And do you think we’ll ever come back from that?” 

Dig looked away, giving Oliver his answer. As much as Oliver wanted the chance to earn back Dig’s trust, Dig didn’t seem ready to give it, and Oliver wasn’t quite sure he deserved it.

A loud bang came from above them, causing them both to look up before exchanging looks. Dig stood up, grabbing the knife. “I think that’s the cavalry. We need to be ready.” He reached out his hand to Oliver, who accepted it, pulling himself up and leaning against the wall, a wave of dizziness washing over him. This was going to suck.

Dig helped Oliver limp over to one side of the door, and Dig took the other side, knife at the ready. There were shouts of Russian and bursts of gunfire before a rustling of metal could be heard jangling against the door of the freezer. 

“If there’s anyone in there, I’d get away from the door if I were you,” a female voice could be faintly heard. 

Oliver and Dig moved to a corner, Oliver trying very hard not to put weight on his injured leg. A few seconds later, there was another burst of gunfire aimed at the door. Oliver and Dig prepared defensive stances as the door swung opened. 

It was a mix of relief and annoyance Oliver felt at the sight of Felicity, decked out in black pants and a black leather jacket, a gun in her hand, stepping into the freezer.

“Hi,” Felicity said, smiling brightly as Lyla stepped in behind her, gun at the ready. “We’ll be your rescuers today.” 

***

Felicity never typically had great feelings associated with the van. Usually, when she was in the van, it was because she was a part of an absolutely terrible plan that may or may not be her idea. Tonight was no exception.

“Oliver isn’t going to be happy that you’re out in the field,” Thea noted, lacing up her jacket. 

“Well, I’m not particularly happy he got kidnapped by some Bratva thug,” Felicity answered back.

“Besides, it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission, right?” Laurel put in. 

“Sure,” Felicity said, rolling the van to a stop a block away from the address Anatoli had given her. 

“Okay, Laurel, Thea, get in position,” Lyla directed, checking her arsenal of guns. Both women nodded, silently slipping out of the van. 

“I’m pulling up thermal imaging,” Felicity said, tapping away at her tablet. Lyla leaned in to look over her shoulder. 

“Okay, looks like eight around the perimeter of the building,” Lyla informed Laurel and Thea over the comms. 

“We’ll take care of them,” Laurel answered back.

“As quietly as you can,” Lyla replied. 

“Copy that,” Laurel replied.

“There’s three floors to the building, a few men on the first floor, and a few more in the basement,” Felicity said, looking for an indication as to where Dig and Oliver were.

“Let’s take a look at the basement,” Lyla said. 

Felicity nodded, “Probably where they are...Bingo!” On the south wall looked to be a room with two men. “That’s them.” 

Lyla nodded. “Okay, Speedy, Black Canary, we have the boys’ location. They’re in the basement. Once you get the guys on the perimeter, enter through the north entrance. Felicity and I will take the south.” 

“Got it,” Thea grunted out, taking care of her targets. “South alleyway is clear. 

Felicity fired the van up again, making her way to the south entrance. She prayed they were safe, parking so near, that the boys would be able to walk. Oh, who was she kidding, they’d probably need to run.

“You know, Thea wasn’t wrong, Oliver is going to be pretty mad, you risking your life,” Lyla said lightly.

Felicity shrugged. “Won’t Dig be mad at you?” 

“This is my job, Felicity; he knows that,” Lyla replied. 

“And this is my life, my choice. Oliver knows that,” Felicity said. 

Lyla nodded. “Is he going to like how you got the information we needed? What did you promise Anatoli anyway?” 

Felicity shook her head, “Nothing. Anatoli had a change of heart about helping Oliver.” She looked away from Lyla, guilty about the bald-faced lie she’d just told, but right now wasn’t the time. Felicity had done what was necessary to get Oliver back. 

“South entrance is clear,” Laurel said over the comm. Felicity parked the van, quietly easing out of the van.

“Showtime,” Lyla said. “Felicity, stay behind me, and do exactly what I tell you to do.” 

Felicity nodded, nervously checking the handgun she’d been given earlier after a crash course in firearm safety from Laurel. 

“How is it that neither Dig nor Oliver showed you how to fire a gun?” Laurel had asked, crossing her arms. 

Felicity had cringed a bit, “Dig wanted to, but I always waved him off. Didn’t think I’d need the information.” 

That had made Laurel’s eyebrows raise. “Really?” 

“What can I say? I’m an eternal optimist,” Felicity had sighed.

Now, her optimism was fading a bit, the reality of storming a Bratva hideout hitting her. God, was her life weird. 

She and Lyla clung to the wall of the building in the shadows. They stepped over an unconscious thug Thea and Laurel had neutralized. Felicity trailed behind Lyla; both women inching their way towards the back door. 

The door opened and a man strolled out the door with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He looked to Lyla and Felicity, who both pointed their guns at him.

“Good evening,” he called, unaffected. He took a long drag from his cigarette. “Mr. Knyasev sends his regards.”

Lyla and Felicity lowered their weapons. “You’re here to help?” Felicity asked. 

“No, I am here to give you information. Four men are on the first floor, in Volkov’s office on the east side of the building. Three more men are guarding the prisoners in the basement. They are in a walk-in freezer on the south wall,” the man said. 

“How do we get to the basement?” Lyla asked.

“Go in this door, take a left. You’ll see a hallway with stairs. That is the way to the basement. No one is guarding the door right now.” The man took one more drag before throwing his cigarette to the ground and stomping on it. “Good luck.” He tipped his imaginary hat towards Lyla and Felicity and walked away without a care in the world. Anatoli must have paid him well. 

“The men around the perimeter have been taken care of,” Laurel said over the comms. 

“Alright, Felicity and I are about to enter the building. Come in through the north, cover us. We’ll exit back through the south door,” Lyla said. 

“Copy,” Laurel answered back. “My dad is ready to move in with ESU once we have Oliver and Dig.” 

“Remember, stay behind me,” Lyla said for the thousandth time.

“Roger,” Felicity said. “Or copy. Copy? Okay.” 

Lyla opened the door and stepped into what used to be a butcher shop. Sure enough, no one was to be seen, though Felicity could hear Russian being spoken distantly, probably in Volkov’s office.

Lyla jerked her head for Felicity to follow, and the two of them made their way to the hallway with the stairs to the basement. Like the man Anatoli paid off said, there was no guard. 

“Ready?” Lyla whispered. 

Felicity shook her head, “No, not really.” 

Lyla ignored her. “Let’s go. Stay behind me.” Lyla eased the door open, and pulled out her second gun. She nodded at Felicity, and both stepped down the stairs, Felicity on the inside part of the stairs, Lyla between her and the railing. There were three men clustered together, in front of the walk-in freezer speaking quietly together. For a fleeting moment, Felicity thought maybe, just maybe, they could make it all the way down the stairs without anyone noticing. 

But that was way too much to ask for. Especially when there was a loud bang from above, from the sound of it, a flashbang. 

The sound sprang the men into action, looking towards the stairs. There were shouts of Russian. Felicity could make out some swear words, the swear words Oliver had taught her one night in Paris. And there was gunfire, a whole bunch of gunfire. 

She and Lyla crouched down as Lyla returned fire. One of the men yelped in pain, a bullet slicing through his knee. 

“Good job!” Felicity yelled in Lyla’s ear. 

“Come on!” Lyla pushed Felicity down the stairs and behind a wooden beam before laying down more cover fire and moving behind her own wooden beam. Lyla continued to exchange bullets, before one of her guns jammed, the other empty. The two remaining men started moving towards them. Taking a deep breath, Felicity moved out from the beam, squared her shoulders and aimed for the man on the right. She hit the guy on the left. 

Close enough. He dropped, a bullet in the shoulder. The man on the right came running forward toward Felicity, but met Lyla instead, placing a well-timed kick to his gut, sending him backwards. She caught his wrist, wrenching his arm and snapping his wrist. He dropped his gun in pain. Lyla caught it, and shot him in the gut. He dropped to the ground. 

“Whoa,” Felicity said, surveying the three men on the ground. 

“Come on,” Lyla said, moving towards the freezer. She picked up the heavy padlock on the door, letting it bang against it when she let it go. “If there’s anyone in there, I’d get away from the door if I were you.” She gave them a count of ten before aiming her gun and shooting off padlock. 

Part of it fell off, and Felicity lurched forward, ripping the remaining pieces off the door before throwing it open. 

There they were, Oliver and Dig, prepared to throw themselves at whoever was coming through the door, although they stopped short when they saw her.

“Hi,” Felicity said, feeling incredibly satisfied. “We’ll be your rescuers today.” 

Lyla stepped in behind her, gun lowering as she took in Dig. “Johnny.” 

“I’m okay, I’m fine,” Dig said as they made their way to one another.

Felicity crossed to Oliver, taking in the way he was leaning heavily on the wall. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m okay. I’m here.” Oliver pulled her into a hug and Felicity felt an incredible relief, the same kind of relief she’d felt the night they’d left Starling City, together. Were they not in an old, defunct freezer in a Bratva stronghold, with men upstairs probably on their way to shoot at them, Felicity could have stayed there in Oliver’s arms forever. 

“We need to go,” Dig said, and Felicity forced herself to break apart from Oliver. She handed Dig her gun. 

“Laurel and Thea are upstairs,” Felicity said, the sound of two more flashbangs echoing from above.

“Thea does know how expensive those are, right?” Oliver grunted, annoyed. He pushed off the wall, leaning heavily on his right side. 

Felicity wound her arm around his left side, decidedly not looking at his leg. “What did I say about backseat vigilante-ing? Come on.” 

“Guys, are you about ready? We’ve got Bratva reinforcements,” Laurel called over the comm.

“On our way,” Lyla replied. She nodded towards Dig, and they led the way out. Felicity tried to keep up with them while Oliver, who was trying very hard to move as fast as he could, kept making small noises every time he put weight on his injured leg. Felicity tried to take as much of Oliver’s weight as she could, but dear God, the muscle on that man. 

When they reached the stairs, Dig took over from Felicity, taking Oliver’s weight and helping him hop up the stairs. When they got to the top, Lyla pressed a gun from one of the unconscious men into Oliver’s hand. 

The hallway was empty, but from the shouts and gunfire, the open area leading to it was full of angry Bratva. 

“We’ll lay down cover fire, you and Felicity get to the van,” Dig said. 

“Got it,” Oliver said, and Felicity was thankful he didn’t argue. That was something. Lyla and Dig went first, immediately going head first into the fray. Felicity could see Thea and Laurel in the middle of things, their backs to each other as they were encircled by Bratva thugs. 

Felicity started to lead Oliver to the exit, but stopped short. “The exit is blocked,” she yelled to him, as a bullet narrowly missed her head. Oliver pushed her behind an old counter.

“Stay down,” he ordered her, before taking a deep breath and standing up. Felicity watched as he methodically let off three rounds, and from the strangled cries, he got his marks. Felicity peeked over the top of the counter, watching as Laurel took down one of the men with her tonfa, causing him to crash through an old wooden chair. Thea had abandoned shooting arrows, in favor of hand to hand, or really, leg to hand combat, using the power in her legs to take men down. Lyla and Dig were both laying down cover fire, trying to get the exit clear. 

A few of the men bolted for the front exit, Thea and Laurel trailing behind them. Oliver stood up one more time, placing a few well-aimed bullets. The exit clear, Felicity once again took Oliver’s weight, as much as she could, and led him towards the exit. 

“You do realize I’m gonna be picking every movie for the next, like, twelve-thousand movie nights,” Felicity grunted. “You are going to fall in love with Nicholas Sparks.”

Oliver chuckled. “Can’t wait.” 

****

Out of the corner of his eye, Dig could see Felicity leading Oliver towards the exit. Oliver dropped his gun and Dig surmised he was out of bullets. Dig was nearly in the same boat. Surveying the scene, expelling a sigh of relief that all the men on the ground were bad guys. 

“Let’s go,” Dig called to Lyla, moving towards the south exit to the van, to safety. The four of them converged on the exit, until a warning shot rang out over their heads. 

Dig and Oliver whipped around, both immediately putting themselves in front of Lyla and Felicity. 

Volkov stood among his the bodies of his men, gun aimed at Oliver and Dig. 

“Get her out of here,” Oliver said to Lyla, as Dig nodded his approval and Felicity balked. 

“No! I’m not leaving!” Felicity shouted. 

“Yes, you are,” Dig said. Lyla pulled Felicity out of the door. Dig and Oliver turned their attention back to Volkov. 

“So, Mr. Diggle, you disappoint me,” Volkov sneered. “I give you good deal. The myasnik’s life for yours.”

“You and I have very different definitions of good deal,” Dig scoffed. 

“Volkov,” Oliver said, “You don’t have to do this.” 

Volkov laughed. “But I do. I made a promise to my brother. To make you pay for what you did.”

“Listen Volkov, I’ve lost a brother, too. I’d do anything to get him back, but he’s gone. I tried to get revenge, and I wasted a lot of time being angry. It’s not worth it,” Dig said levelly to Volkov, hoping he’d hear reason. 

“No, No,” Volkov scoffed. “This only ends one way. Pain and misery.” The gun Volkov had trained on Oliver’s chest moved to Dig’s. 

It took no thought, not really. Dig raised his gun and took a shot just as Volkov did, at the same time he felt Oliver’s shoulder in his gut bulldozing him into the ground. Dig’s head hit the floor, and he was momentarily dazed. Oliver was nearly on top of him, but not moving, and Dig no longer had his gun. 

He looked to Volkov, who he’d hit, how he didn’t know, what with Oliver tackling him. Volkov was down on the ground as well, gasping in pain while looking wildly for his gun. Dig looked back to Oliver who still wasn’t moving. 

“Oliver!” He shouted, checking for injuries. Dig let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when Oliver groaned in pain. Dig found his gun, near Oliver’s feet and grabbed it, standing up. He walked over to Volkov. “You,” Dig said, gun trained on Volkov, “do not go anywhere near my family. Got it?” 

Volkov sneered, muttering something in Russian, but a loud bang from the front of the building interrupted whatever he was saying. Thea came barreling in, bow at the ready. 

“We gotta go,” she said to Dig. “SCPD is coming.” 

Dig nodded, and tossed his gun in the air, catching it by the barrel, and cracked Volkov over the head. Dig smirked, satisfied. 

Thea and Dig hauled Oliver up. Dig blanched, as he took in the growing spread of blood covering Oliver’s left side. “How bad?” Dig demanded of Oliver.

Oliver shook his head. “Graze. Not bad.” 

“Ollie, are you lying?” Thea asked, concerned. 

“Let’s go, Speedy,” Oliver said tiredly, leaning on both of them. 

They made it out the back door in time to hear Lance shout, “SCPD!” Dig and Thea moved fast, Oliver becoming more and more dead weight as they got closer to the van. 

Dig wasn’t sure the van was the prettiest sight he’d seen in awhile, but it was awfully close as the doors opened and Felicity jumped out to help, frowning. 

“Oliver! How did he get more injured? How? Five minutes! That’s it! I left you alone for five minutes!” Felicity said, sounding equal parts concerned and annoyed. 

“He took a bullet for me,” Dig said, and he found himself sounding just as concerned and annoyed. He turned to Oliver. “Don’t do that again.” 

“Noted.” Oliver answered back. He collapsed onto the floor of the van, looking content just to stay there for the next week. Felicity knelt down on the floor next to him, taking one of his hands. 

“Oliver?” She whispered. 

Dig watched Oliver squeeze her hand and give an exhausted smile. “I’m here. I’m right here.” 

Oliver then promptly passed out. Dig figured he’d earned it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On Tumblr [@kayleegee-writes](http://kayleegee-writes.tumblr.com/)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to [@hotcookinmama](http://hotcookinmama.tumblr.com/) for being the best beta around, and [@cherchersketch](http://cherchersketch.tumblr.com/) for the amazing artwork!

[](http://imgur.com/5B0V6JD)  


“Here you go, Captain Lance,” Felicity’s assistant --Greg, maybe -- handed him a steaming cup of coffee as Lance settled into one of Felicity’s couches in her office. “Ms. Smoak is finishing up a budget meeting, she’ll be right in. Let me know if you need anything else.” 

“Thank you,” Lance replied, watching -- Jared, possibly -- leave. Lance took a sip of coffee, closing his eyes a moment. He was exhausted. The past week had been a long one, starting with Queen disappearing and ending with busting up a significant portion of the Bratva presence in Star City. It was great for the city and the department, but it also meant a whole lot of paperwork. 

“Detective!” Felicity said, walking into her office, dropping a few folders onto her desk. She came around to the couches, and sat down opposite of Lance. “Sorry, I mean Captain.” 

Lance rolled his eyes. How hard was it to remember a rank? “How’s Oliver?” Lance asked, more out of propriety than actual concern.

“Better,” Felicity gave Lance a tight smile. “He’s between the recovery stages of sleeping all day and running light errands.” 

“Driving you crazy?” Lance smirked.

Felicity sighed, rolling her eyes, “He doesn’t understand Netflix binging.” 

“Nah, I’m sure the Bratva didn’t cover that in their initiation,” Lance said pointedly. 

“What brings you by today?” Felicity asked, bristling at the comment. Lance had managed to leave Queen and company’s involvement out of the official reports, so they hadn’t talked since Oliver had been taken. 

Lance was blunt. “Volkov is dead. Killed this morning.”

Felicity frowned. “Laurel said he was in protective custody.” 

“He was. There was concern the Triad or the Italians might try something, but it wasn’t them we need to worry about,” Lance explained. “Volkov was killed by the Bratva.” 

“Well, he did betray the Bratva; he was destined for cement shoes,” Felicity replied. 

“You know they don’t actually do that,” Lance said. 

“Really?” Felicity asked, her face scrunching up in disbelief.

“Bullets to the head usually work better,” Lance answered. “Or in this case, a knife.” 

Felicity nodded, before cocking her head a bit. “So you came down here to tell me about Volkov?” 

“I told you the other night, that at some point Oliver was going to have to come clean about his time away, that his baggage could put us in danger,” Lance said. “With Volkov dead, there could be a power vacuum within the Star City Bratva that could affect the entire city.”

“And it’s Oliver’s fault that Volkov went all kinds of Ahab crazy?” Felicity’s eyes narrowed a bit. “What did you expect us to do? Sit back and let Volkov kill Oliver?” 

“No, of course not.” Lance shook his head, looking levelly at Felicity, a question on his mind that he could not shake since Laurel had called him with the details of the rescue mission. “Why did, what’s his name...Knyasev? Why did he have a change of heart in helping?” 

Felicity looked down immediately, a tell to Lance she was about to lie. Sure enough, she shrugged and said, “I don’t know why he had a change of heart. Let’s just be glad he did.” 

“It’s weird, though, right? Volkov’s own brotherhood going after him?” Lance asked, putting on his best dumb cop face. There was more to all of this -- Knyasev helping and Volkov’s downfall -- and Felicity seemed to be in the middle of it.

Felicity sighed, and looked over to her desk, her eyes fixed on a fern sitting on the corner. Her face was steel, and when she turned back to Lance, there was a resolve in her eyes. “Volkov made his bed. I’m not going to lose sleep over that.” 

Lance chuckled, sarcastically. “He failed this city?” 

“Something like that,” Felicity answered and glanced back to her desk. “Is there anything else, Captain?” 

Lance stood up, “No, nothing.” 

Felicity walked him to her door. “Well, thanks for stopping by, and thank you for your help the other night. Oliver and I appreciate it.” 

“Yeah,” Lance said, and began to open the door before stopping a moment. “Felicity,” he said, feeling a moment of deja vu, the same uneasy feeling he’d felt when he’d found out Laurel and Oliver were dating, all those years ago. “You’re playing with fire, you know that, right?” Lance could only think of the turmoil Oliver had introduced to his life, his family’s life. 

“It’s my life, my choice,” Felicity shot back before softening a bit. “Captain, I know your history with Oliver makes it hard to trust him, or believe that he’s changed, but since I’ve known him, I’ve been constantly amazed at how he always strives to do the right thing, even if it appears he’s being a giant bonehead.”

Lance slightly smiled, shaking his head. “You can’t find anybody better to be with?” 

“You’ve never had his loins,” Felicity grinned, looking a bit wistful that made Lance’s eyebrows shoot up. Felicity noticed, because she immediately started sputtering, “His roasted lamb loins. Oliver’s lamb loins, not his personal loins, I mean we do have great…” She closed her eyes and, thankfully, her mouth.

“Alright, I’m gonna go. I’ll see ya later.” Lance said, hightailing it out of Felicity’s office before he heard anything else that he didn’t need to know. Felicity gave a tight nod and a wave, as if she did not trust herself to open her mouth. 

In the elevator, Lance had a few moments to think about his conversation with Felicity. Truth be told, Lance had previously wondered if it was just a schoolgirl crush that had made Felicity run away with Oliver. Now though, he knew that wasn’t the case. 

If siccing the Bratva on one of their own to save your boyfriend wasn’t love, then what was?

***

Dig knocked on the door, surprised at the nervous feeling he felt. He was here to check on Oliver, since Felicity was back to work today. Apparently from what Dig had heard from the others, there had been a disagreement between Felicity and Oliver on what constituted as “taking it easy.” 

So, here Dig was after a bit of prodding on Lyla’s part. It wasn’t that Dig didn’t want to see Oliver. It was just that Oliver had asked Dig a question right before their rescue: Could they ever come back after Oliver’s betrayal? Dig wasn’t sure of the answer. 

A few moments after knocking, the door swung open, and Oliver looked mildly surprised to see Dig. “Hey,” Oliver said, groggily, like he’d just woken up. 

“Hey,” Dig returned, taking a moment to look over Oliver. He looked better, his black eye fading. Oliver was wearing a short sleeved t-shirt, and Dig could see the fading bruises on his arms. 

“Um, come on in,” Oliver said, limping back slightly to allow Dig through. It was the first time Dig had been to the new house.

“Nice place,” Dig said. “Upgrade from sleeping in the foundry.” 

“Yeah,” Oliver chuckled, “if Felicity could settle on a damn color for each room.” Sure enough, Oliver led Dig into the great room that had three walls painted a warm blue and a fourth that was the same blue with swatches of purple painted over it.

 

Oliver limped over to the couch, and Dig moved to a chair next to it. From the looks of it, Oliver had been camped out here, a few books and magazines on the coffee table, along with a tablet, a plate and a few glasses. The TV was on low, a reality tv show it seemed. 

“You’re moving a bit easier?” Dig asked, settling into his chair a bit, as Oliver shifted to a more comfortable position. 

Oliver sighed. “Yeah, just sore.” 

Dig narrowed his eyes a bit. “You’re staying off your leg?” 

Oliver nodded noncommittally before asking, “How about you?”

“I didn’t get a knife in the thigh,” Dig smirked, “And I didn’t take a bullet meant for someone else.” 

“It was just a graze,” Oliver shrugged.

“Thank you, all the same,” Dig answered back, “but don’t ever do it again.” 

Oliver shifted against the couch again, clearly hesitant to ask the question he did. “There’ll be a next time?” 

Dig looked away for a moment, his eyes falling on the fireplace mantle. On it was a series of framed photographs. Several photographs were of Oliver and Felicity, looking content and in love on their getaway. Dig could see the edge of one Queen family photo tucked behind another photo of Oliver and Thea. But there was one photo that stuck out, a photo of Oliver and Dig, at Dig’s wedding. It’d been one of the happiest days of Dig’s life, and he’d been proud to have Oliver there as his best man, his brother. 

“I told you, when I joined you, that you needed someone to remind you of who you are,” Dig said slowly.

Oliver nodded, “You did a pretty good job.” 

“Who says I’m done?” Dig asked.

Dig could swear he saw the burden of guilt literally lift off Oliver’s shoulders. Oliver, for his part, looked to be struggling for words. “So you’re not done,” Oliver said roughly.

Dig shrugged. “You still really struggle with your self-preservation skills.”

“So Felicity has reminded me,” Oliver chuckled. 

Dig looked back to the mantle. He thought of Andy, the difficulties he had, how much support Dig had given him through all the tough times. “Family isn’t easy to get rid of. Especially brothers.” 

Oliver followed Dig’s gaze to the pictures, a fond look on his face as he looked at the photos. “I never expected to be here,” Oliver said simply. 

“But you are,” Dig replied. “Want my advice?” 

“Always,” Oliver said, meeting Dig’s eyes.

Dig leaned forward. “Stay off your island.”

Oliver nodded, a small smile on his face. Dig returned the smile, shaking his head slightly. Family was hard sometimes.

“So,” Dig said, leaning forward again and snatching the remote off the coffee table, “what are we going to watch?” 

****

The day was quickly stretching into a longer one than Felicity had naively anticipated. Of course her first day back to work after Oliver’s kidnapping was going to be a never ending drudge of catch-up.

She’d been staying on top of her e-mail at home, only being able to watch Oliver sleep off his injuries for so long, especially as the week wore on and he was out of any real danger. The face-to-face stuff -- meetings, department visits, etc. -- had piled up. Now that Oliver could limp around the house himself and was visibly bristling at her hovering, it was time to go back to work.

Felicity flopped into her desk chair, the last of her meetings for the day done. She eyed the paperwork that had piled up on her desk, weighing the dangers of leaving it for the next day versus the agony of staying at Palmer Tech one more hour. 

She sighed, pulling off her glasses and rubbing her eyes. She catalogued her day, thinking of what she’d accomplished and what still needed to be addressed. Her thoughts stopped abruptly when she got to of Captain Lance’s visit and the news that Volkov was dead.

She should have felt something about that news, shouldn’t she? She didn’t feel bad about his death, but she also didn’t feel good or justified about it. Really, she felt nothing, which was slightly unnerving. 

Lance was worried she was playing with fire. And to an extent, he was right. But it wasn’t like she was a megalomaniac hell-bent on world domination. She was just doing what she had to do to save Oliver. And really, Felicity had a history of far-fetched plans to save Oliver’s life. 

“Good evening,” a Russian-accented voice called to Felicity, startling her. She jumped out of her seat, looking beyond the man for Gerry, her assistant who was nowhere to be seen. “I hope I am not interrupting.”

Felicity took a good look at the man. He was tall, well dressed, and had the air of someone totally at ease, like he was well practiced in scaring the bejeezus out of women. But there was something familiar about him…

“You’re one of the guys Anatoli paid off to betray Volkov,” Felicity said by way of greeting, thinking back to the cigarette-smoking thug in the back alley. “You told us where they were holding Oliver and Diggle.” 

The man nodded. “I am Yuri Vasilyev. I was pleased to hear you got your men back.” 

“What do you want?” Felicity asked, not at all put at ease by the Russian man’s genial nature. 

Vasilyev smiled, “We will be working closely together, and I thought introductions were in order.”

“Working together?” Felicity frowned.

“You may not have heard. I am now leader of Bratva brotherhood in Star City,” Vasilyev said, looking quite smug. 

“I’m sure your mother is quite proud to learn about your promotion from associate thug to chief thug,” Felicity scoffed. 

“Ms. Smoak, I am confused,” Vasilyev said, sitting down on one of Felicity’s couches, smoothing out his tie. 

“Please, make yourself at home,” Felicity muttered, glancing at her phone. She calculated how long it would take security to get to her office. But what would she tell them? 

“I was under the impression that you and Mr. Knyasev made a deal,” Vasilyev said. “You are in debt to brotherhood.”

Felicity shook her head and took a seat across from Vasilyev, head held high. “I am in debt to Anatoli, not you.” 

“You have done quite well for yourself Ms. Smoak, going from IT girl to CEO in a matter of years, a testament to your hard work and intelligence.” Vasilyev leaned forward. He regarded Felicity for a moment, his look of geniality hardening into something more sinister. “So, why do you now sit here, looking like a naive little girl? Do not mistake Anatoli’s affection for Mr. Queen and you. The brotherhood is owed, and you will pay.” 

Felicity swallowed, suddenly nauseous. “So, what do you want?” 

“Like I said, I just wanted to introduce myself,” Vasilyev settled back into the couch, and waved a hand around Felicity’s office. “Palmer Technologies, I’m sure, will be very helpful to the brotherhood.”

“How?” Felicity gritted out.

Vasilyev shrugged, “Immense resources, contacts, companies under the umbrella of Palmer Technologies.”

Felicity looked down, sighing. “You want money.”

Vasilyev smiled. “Any help you can provide, including cleaning services.”

“You want to use my company to launder Bratva money,” Felicity blanched, looking pale. Hiding the vigilante business from law enforcement was pretty much cake at this point...but money laundering for the mob? Frack.

“I’m sure you will be able to accommodate our needs,” He smiled and stood up. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Smoak.” 

“I’m sure it was,” Felicity replied. 

Vasilyev made his way to her door and stopped short, acting as if he’d just remembered something. “Oh yes, Ms. Smoak, one more thing.” 

“What else could you possible want?” Felicity asked.

Vasilyev smiled, again, nonplussed at Felicity’s icy demeanor. “It is clear to me what you value most in this world. Mr. Queen, Mr. Diggle and his family, your mother.” 

“If you hurt any of them…” Felicity started to threaten.

Vasilyev held his hands up, “No, no. I’m sure we will have a very positive working relationship together,” he said, before his face hardened again. “But do not think for a moment what happened to Volkov will not happen to you or your loved ones. Good day.” He left Felicity’s office, his head tipping in acknowledgement to Gerry, who was returning to his desk. 

On shaky legs, Felicity walked back to her desk, and sat down before she lost control of her body. This was not good. 

After all of these years circling the flames, she had a sinking feeling she was about to get burned. 

***

Felicity was late, just as Oliver had expected. He’d planned on cooking a late dinner, but after his conversation with Dig, he’d been left incredibly tired. Dig had stayed for a while, watching some SportsCenter with Oliver, falling back into an easy rhythm that hit Oliver hard. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed Dig. 

After Dig had left, Oliver had limped upstairs, tired of the couch. Truth be told, he wanted Felicity, but settled for her side of the bed, instantly comforted, and fell asleep. He didn’t wake until he heard her come into the bedroom, bumping into the dresser with a soft “Frack,” as she entered the dark room. Oliver stirred, looking at the clock.

“Hey,” he called out softly. 

Felicity peaked her head out of the bathroom, dress half unzipped, smiling. “Hi! Did I wake you? I was trying to be stealthy. You know, I’m stealthy now.” 

Oliver laughed. “Are you now?”

Felicity balked, settling down on the open side of the bed, his side. “I infiltrated a Bratva stronghold.”

“With help,” Oliver pointed out. 

“Well, I mean, yeah, but,” Felicity argued. 

Oliver leveraged himself up against the headboard. “You’re stealthy, yeah,” he groaned, sore.

“How was your day?” Felicity asked. 

“Good, once someone got so busy she stopped texting every ten minutes,” Oliver said, elbowing Felicity’s side, who rolled her eyes. “Dig stopped by,” Oliver added. 

“And?” Felicity perked up.

“We watched SportsCenter,” Oliver replied. 

Felicity’s eyes narrowed. “Is that all you did?”

“We may have made plans for this weekend. They’re going to come over for dinner. Chicken Corden Bleu sound good?” Oliver asked, smiling a sly smile. That’d been the best part of the whole afternoon, Dig asking if he felt up to cooking. 

“Yes!” Felicity pumped her fist into the air, bouncing on the bed to her knees, causing the mattress to shift and jarring Oliver’s still sore muscles. He groaned, closing his eyes for a moment. “Oh my god! I so sorry!” Felicity exclaimed, calming down immediately.

“I’m fine,” Oliver said, a bit breathless. And it was the truth. Who knew getting kidnapped by the Bratva could yield such a fantastic result? He settled once again against the headboard. 

“Can I get you anything?” Felicity asked, a bit sheepish. 

Oliver held out his arm, and Felicity, scooted in closer, careful of Oliver’s injured side. He looped his arm around her waist, pulling her close. “How was your day?” He asked. 

She stiffened a bit, tense. “It was...long,” she answered.

“That’s it?” Oliver asked. A short answer from Felicity was never good. 

Felicity sighed, taking off her glasses and rubbing her eyes. “We need to talk about something, about your kidnapping.”

“What happened?” Oliver asked, rubbing his hand up and down Felicity’s arm.

“I did something...extreme,” Felicity said slowly.

“As extreme as flying to the Starling City Dam in the A.T.O.M. suit and saving my life?” Oliver asked, quirking his head slightly, a sly smile on his face.

“Actually, maybe more so,” Felicity replied. “I love you, you know that, right?” 

“I love you, too,” Oliver squeezed her waist. 

Felicity dropped her head onto his shoulder, sighing. “I like being here with you, just the two of us.” 

“It’s my favorite as well,” Oliver answered, thinking back to their time away. “What’s wrong, Felicity?” 

Felicity shook her head, looking exhausted. “It can wait. I just want to lay here with you forever, okay?” 

Oliver let his forehead fall on top of her head, nuzzling the side of her hair with his nose, taking in the strawberry smell of her hair. “Okay,” he whispered, pressing a kiss. He lifted his head a moment though, worried. “I am concerned about your use of the word extreme.” 

Felicity cocked her head, “Well, I don’t think it’s as bad as trying to drug and smuggle you out of Nanda Parbat.” 

“Well, that’s a bit of relief,” Oliver chuckled. 

Felicity relaxed into his arms. “We do have funny ways of showing how much we love each other.” 

Oliver smiled, and kissed her gently. “For you, I’d start a riot.” 

And wasn’t that the absolute truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi to me on tumblr [@kayleegee-writes](http://kayleegee-writes.tumblr.com/)


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